Spin Cycle (21 page)

‘What?'

‘I just had a truly horrible thought!'

‘What?'

‘Maggie! She said that she saw me coming out of my therapist's office a few months ago, and that she was really worried about me. Do you know, I bet
that
she
rang Alex and told him to get his butt back here coz of the kids. Damn! He's going to think I'm a loony!'

‘Oh, rubbish! Anyway, he
should
come back. How often has he seen them in five years – twice? It'll do them good, and him too. You can play happy families. I recommend Daylesford. But tell me more about the sister. Is she a bit of a busybody?'

‘No, not really. I think she was just genuinely concerned. She's really
very
nice. You'd like her. In fact, she's coming for a barbecue Sunday lunchtime. Do you want to come too?'

‘You
are
aware that it's winter?'

‘Yes, I am. Where's your sense of adventure? I'm thinking outside the square I live in and you should too. Besides, I shall probably need moral support. You can always bring a coat if a little cool weather scares you. Would you two like to come or not?'

‘I take it you mean me and Bronte, not me and Dennis?'

‘That's for sure!'

‘In that case, we'd love to. Well, I'd love to and I'll see if my daughter is free, or even speaking to me yet.'

‘I'd better warn you that my mother and
both
sisters are coming as well. That's why I need the moral support.'

‘You're asking your sister Elizabeth over for a barbecue?'

‘Yep. I'm also asking her boyfriend, and my mother's boyfriend as well.'

‘
Your
mother has a boyfriend?'

‘Not only has she a boyfriend,' I pause for dramatic effect – and to refill our wineglasses, ‘but they are getting married next February. On my birthday, in fact.'

‘Good god! That must make, let me see, husband number four for your mother, doesn't it? I thought she already had a major dilemma with three of them milling around up there already.' Terry waves airily in the direction of the ceiling.

‘She does. Well, at least she did. By now Dad and the other two are probably breathing a sigh of relief and trying to chat up an angel or two. Anyway, now it's number four, and room for more. The woman marries every Tom, Dick and Harry she comes across. And actually his name
is
Harry. Well, Harold really but –' I stop suddenly as something rather incredible occurs to me. ‘That's it! She
is
marrying every Tom, Dick and Harry! The first one was Thomas, and then there was Richard – that's your Dick – then there was my father … he must have been an oversight because his name was Algernon, but anyway, she has recovered nicely, found her Harry and shall now live happily ever after!'

We both dissolve into hysterical laughter at the idea of anyone actually not only finding, but marrying, a Tom, Dick and Harry. I imagine that there wouldn't be that many nowadays. I mus
t
remember to share this with Diane. After a few minutes we calm down and sit in pleasurable silence for a while, sipping wine and eating dip. A couple of possums scramble across the roof above us and then proceed to launch themselves into the air, landing
with a thud on the verandah roof where they perform their nightly tango before heading for the trees. Sam waltzes through the lounge-room to say hello to Terry while helping herself to a few crackers and then disappears in the direction of the kitchen. No doubt to find the packet and finish them off.

‘Every Tom, Dick and Harry – that's hysterical.'

‘Not for them, it's not.'

‘Hmm. Amazing.'

‘That's my mother for you.'

‘It
was
sort of nice, you know.'

‘What was?'

‘Dennis. Being with someone for a couple of days. Sex.'

‘Sorry, I can't remember.'

‘No, I'm serious. I didn't realise how much I missed it. Not just sex, but the companionship, the talking, just walking down a street holding hands with someone whose hand is actually bigger than yours. Don't get me wrong, I
don't
want another relationship with Dennis. Been there, done that – and suffered the consequences. But if there's one thing this weekend did for me, apart from the obvious, of course, it reminded me of what I'm missing. And I think that I
do
want a relationship with someone. Now.'

‘Hey! Don't look at me!'

‘Not
right
now, you dork.'

‘That's quite a speech.' I look at Terry thoughtfully. ‘I always thought you were the strong, silent, contented single type.'

‘Look, I'm not desperately unhappy, and if you
had asked me a couple of years ago whether I wanted another guy, I would have said no way. I wasn't ready. But now I am. I don't want to sound too maudlin but I'm sort of feeling actually lonely.'

‘Oh, Terry. That's sad.'

‘God, don't go overboard! I'm not crying into my gin every night! I'm just facing facts, that's all. And I'm going to do something about it.'

‘Like what?'

‘Well, start going out more. Socialising. Joining a few clubs. Going clubbing. I don't know, I haven't thought it through entirely yet. One thing I
do
know is that I'm not going to sit at home moping.'

‘Good on you!'

‘Want to join me?'

‘Me?' I look at Terry in surprise. ‘Um, but I have a babysitter problem, you know.'

‘So? Just use Sam.'

‘Oh, of course, of course.' I put my glass down on the coffee table and stall by selecting a cracker and slowly piling it with dip. The thing is, this venture doesn't sound all that appealing to me. It should, considering that I am always moaning about wanting to get some action – any action – but the thought of getting all dressed up and going clubbing or whatever? Having to make conversation with strangers? No – not my thing at all. Not anymore, anyway. And especially not when I have a lovely warm house, comfy armchairs, a good book to look forward to, great kids – the list goes on.

‘Or if you don't want to use Sam, I'm sure Bronte wouldn't mind.'

‘Oh, thanks. That's great.' I lean over, grab the wine cask and carefully refill the glasses.

‘C'mon, what do you say?'

‘I know what it is!' I push the wine cask away and lean back with my glass in one hand. ‘You just want me as a foil! Next to me you look taller, and blonder, and slimmer – and the guys will see your boobs coming before my face even gets into focus! You're using me, that's what it is.'

‘Do you know what?' Terry leans back and looks at me quizzically. ‘You don't sound very enthusiastic. I'm not forcing you, you know.'

‘I know. I'm sorry. It's just, on the one hand I'd love to go out with you, I'd love to help you find someone. But on the other hand, I don't know that I'm the clubbing type. The whole idea just leaves me cold. Really, really cold. Really frigid, in fact. I think I've just turned into a boring little homebody – but I
like
being at home with the kids at night. I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be, dork. I'll find someone else to enter the dim, dark, dangerous world of single life with me. But when I start bringing home all these gorgeous guys, don't you start complaining or trying to pinch them. I won't stand for it.'

‘I'll try to remember that.' I grin back at her, relieved that I've been let off the hook.

‘Or I could just wait until February and seduce that tall, dark, handsome next-door neighbour you're getting.' Terry flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder and takes a sip of wine. Then she looks across at me.

‘God! Look at your face!'

‘What?' I try to bring my facial features under control. ‘What about my face?'

‘Well, if looks could kill! Okay, okay – the next-door neighbour is out of bounds!'

‘Don't be silly! You can do what you like.'

‘Dork! I wouldn't have touched him anyway! Best friend's exes are definitely forbidden fruit.'

‘Whatever,' I say casually as I put my drink down on the coffee table. That is, I
have
to put my drink down on the coffee table because, for some reason, my hand just started shaking badly.

‘Wish I'd had a camera! Something tells me that
someone
has issues about her ex.' Terry is looking at me gleefully. ‘No wonder you don't want to go clubbing, you're just hanging out to be neighbourly! It'll be a new slant on the old “welcome to our neighbourhood, here's a casserole to keep you warm on your very first night”, ha ha!'

‘Yeah. Ha bloody ha.'

‘C'mon, lighten up.'

‘I thought we were talking about you. You know, you turning into a middle-aged vamp, and touring the singles scene, casting fear into the hearts of any self-respecting men out there.'

‘And wait till they see me in action!'

‘Oh,
please
! I really don't want to know!'

We both laugh companionably and settle back into our seats. I pick up my glass again as my hand seems to have stopped shaking. And I know I
don't
have issues about Alex, so that's fine. I raise my glass for a sip and, out of the corner of my eye, see Terry doing exactly the same. We grin at each other.

‘Synchronised drinking.'

‘Should be an Olympic sport.'

‘Definitely.'

‘Do you know, maybe it's not just the men thing. Maybe I need to do something different. I mean, Bronte's older now so
that's
not such an issue.'

‘I was thinking that as well! Not about Bronte – about the life-change thing. Really, I have. You know how I've been feeling sort of in a rut for a while? Well, I've decided that I'm going to take this library fiasco as a sign and branch out. Take control of my life. Maybe start a business or whatever. I haven't thought it through yet but I'm going to do something.'

‘Good on you! That takes real guts – but you are
so
right! Maybe I'll follow your example and quit the library too. Look for something different, a mid-life career change.'

‘Oh my god, that reminds me! My sister-in-law, well, ex-sister-in-law, the one who is coming on Sunday, did that! A career change, I mean. She went from a high school teacher to madam – she's actually running a brothel called “Pleasant Mount”!'

‘You
have
to be joking! How old is she?'

‘Oh, about eight years older than Alex. That must make her, um, about forty-eight or nine. But she's not actually
working
in the brothel, just managing it. She says it's entrepreneurial.'

‘I can't wait to meet this lady. I've never met a madam. And I can't wait to meet your mother's latest as well. In fact, your winter barbecue might prove to be rather amusing!'

‘You can also meet Elizabeth's latest boyfriend.'

‘As I hardly know Elizabeth,
her
boyfriend doesn't hold the same interest.'

‘We are talking majorly cute here,
and
he's a vet,
and
he is very, very nice.' In fact, I feel sort of goose-bumpy just talking about him. I finish off my wine and refill both glasses.

‘Oh, you only like him because he's Elizabeth's.'

‘What!' I am totally taken aback and stare at her in amazement. ‘Number one, I don't
like
him, I hardly know him, and number two, why would I only like him because he's Bloody Elizabeth's?'

‘Because my theory is that Elizabeth, bloody or not, got all the best attention, toys and space after she was born, and you have developed an unhealthy case of sibling envy. I bet if he wasn't Elizabeth's, you wouldn't have given him a second glance.'

‘I would so have! Wait till you see him!'

‘Tell me, did you develop this fatal attraction before, or after, you knew he was going out with Elizabeth?'

‘Well, after … but I liked the sound of him before I knew!' That doesn't make much sense and I don't really feel like sharing my stalking experience with Terry just at this moment so I decide to change the subject. ‘You've had too much to drink. Here, give me your glass.'

While I refill both glasses and help myself to more dip, I give this theory a bit of thought and then dismiss it as nonsensical. Terry'll understand better when she sees Phillip on Sunday.

‘His name's Phillip.'

‘Well, that definitely goes better with a name like Elizabeth than with yours. In fact I bet he wouldn't have a bar of you. You'd better stick to being neighbourly.' Terry chuckles at her razor-sharp wit and then raises her glass in a toast. ‘Look, here's to us. Cheers!'

‘Cheers!' I reply and take a sip before putting the glass down and leaning back on the couch. ‘And it's not a fatal attraction, anyway.'

‘Whatever,' Terry laughs. ‘I'll check him out on Sunday.'

‘You do that. You'll see. But – do you know this is good, it's nice talking about things with you – almost like … Oh! I haven't told you! I fired my therapist!'

‘About time! What a waste of energy that was. I was wondering when you'd come to your senses.'

Okay, I give up. Obviously I'm not going to get any congratulations from anyone. Instead, consensus appears to be that I have just wasted almost three years diligently making time to spend an hour a week throwing my money away.

‘I mean, yes, that business with Keith was pretty bad and, yes, I think you needed to talk that through, but all the rest was just crap. You should have stopped going about a year ago. All you need now is to be just a little more
positive
about things. Enjoy life. Do you know, I have a theory. If you expect crap, you'll get crap.'

‘Your verbal skills amaze me.'

‘No, I'm serious. A positive attitude can do amazing things to your life. But if you wake up each
morning expecting the day to be miserable, that's exactly what it will be.'