The Alphabet Sisters (18 page)

Bett stared at Lola in amazement. She’d only phoned Rebecca that afternoon. She’d decided to accept the job first and worry later about living so close to Carrie and Matthew.

The mobile beside Anna started vibrating. She checked the number. “Excuse me,” she said, walking outside to answer the call. “Glenn?”

“Anna, hello. How are things? How’s Ellen?”

“Fine. How are you?” So stiff, so awkward with each other.

“Fine, fine. Big news up here. The Singapore trip is on. I leave in two days.”

“I see. How long will you be away for?”

“Three weeks to begin with. But it’s only eight hours’ flight from Sydney. I’ll be back and forth. I’ll still ring Ellen every night, of course. In fact, I’m thinking about getting her a mobile.”

“A mobile? She’s only seven years old, Glenn.”

“I like the idea of her having one anyway. To keep her safe.”

One more dig at her failure as a parent. Anna felt very tired, even as she realized he’d just helped her make the final decision. “As it turns out, Glenn, that works out well. We’re going to stay here in the Valley for a month or so.” She didn’t tell him about the musical. He wouldn’t have been interested.

His anger came down the phone line like a sonic wave. “Just like that? Without discussing it with me? At least I told you the Singapore trip was on the cards. What if I hadn’t been going there? When was I going to get to see Ellen?”

She walked farther away from the motel building, her voice low, the anger only just controlled. “When would you want to see Ellen? In between nights at Julie’s house? In between conferences? Work trips?”

“Anna, I love her. She’s my daughter. You know I see her as much as I can. And just because I’m not with her every hour of the day doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about her. What are you going to do about her schooling? Your work?”

Anna had to sit down on a bench, her chest tight with anger. “I don’t know yet. We’re still sorting it out.” There was a long pause, and then she had to ask. “Is Julie going to Singapore?”

He tried to bluster through it. “Well, she’s my senior assistant, and it’s a big deal to set up a brand-new office. I couldn’t be expected to do it on my own.”

“Is Julie going as your lover as well as your assistant, Glenn?” Anna’s voice was smooth. He wouldn’t have guessed for a moment that her stomach was churning, her hands were sweating. She wanted the truth.

“Julie’s coming with me, yes.”

So it was still happening. “Look, Glenn, I can’t talk now. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

There was a pause, then he spoke again. “Okay, then. Fine. So will you give Ellen my love?”

“I will. Good-bye.” She hung up and sat for a moment trying to quell the desire to throw up. She felt her heart. It was racing. Her skin was clammy. She shut her eyes for a moment, waited for her breathing to calm, and then stood up. She used all the years of drama school training to put a smile on her face as she walked back into the function room. “That’s all sorted. Glenn’s got to go to Singapore for work for a while, so the timing couldn’t have been better. We can definitely stay.”

Still outside, leaning in through the window, Lola noticed Bett was humming one of the songs under her breath. Carrie was mouthing some lines. Anna was the only one who seemed a little distracted. Perhaps she’d had to fight with Glenn to be able to stay on. He’d always been possessive. Still, they’d talk about it later. She gazed at her three granddaughters. “So have you definitely made a decision? Will you do it?”

Anna looked at Bett, who looked at Carrie, who looked back at Anna. Then they all turned to Lola. “We’ll do it.”

Chapter Nine

I
n the function room a week later, Bett was practicing songs on the piano for the following night’s auditions.

Their parents had left for their holiday that morning. Lola, Anna, Bett, Carrie, and Ellen had stood waving on the forecourt as the two of them had driven off, smiling and waving back. They’d all been thinking it, but it was Lola who said it out loud. Jim and Geraldine were like newlyweds off on their honeymoon.

“What’s a honeymoon?” Ellen asked.

“A holiday for people who have just got married,” Anna answered.

“Did you and Dad have a honeymoon?”

“Yes, for two weeks.” They’d gone to an exclusive resort in Fiji. Glenn had confessed on the plane on the way over that he’d heard it was an excellent place for networking business contacts.

“Why didn’t you take me?”

Anna ruffled her hair. “You weren’t born yet.”

Ellen turned to Carrie. “Have you ever had a honeymoon, Auntie Carrie?”

Bett and Carrie both stiffened. “I have, Ellen, yes.”

“And you, Auntie Bett?”

Before Bett had a chance to answer, Lola gave a very loud moan. They all spun toward her, alarmed. “Lola, what’s the matter? Are you all right?”

She moaned again. “It’s just my arthritis, I think. It comes and goes in this damp weather.”

It hadn’t rained in weeks, and Bett knew for a fact that Lola didn’t suffer from arthritis. Short of screaming “Quick! Change the subject!” at the top of her voice, her grandmother couldn’t have been any more obvious. But it had worked. The five of them had walked back into the motel and even managed to have a peaceful enough meeting about the work rosters.

Bett was on reception duty that night. She’d already interrupted her piano playing twice to welcome guests and give out room keys. Carrie had been in the bar earlier, serving rounds of drinks to a small group of people. It was now dark in there. Bett assumed Carrie had closed it all up and gone home for the night. Anna had been in the kitchen when Bett had passed through earlier. She’d been preparing the guests’ breakfast trays, reading through the ticked forms, distributing little boxes of cereal, portions of jam, and sachets of sugar. Ellen had been beside her, standing on a chair. With her tongue visible between her lips, she’d been folding the red paper serviettes into passable fans.

Bett finished playing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” and picked up the sheet music for “Chattanooga Choo Choo.” She loved the smoothness of the piano keys under her fingers, the familiar tunes filling the room around her, the feeling of being in charge of the music, adding elaborate notes here and there. She worked her way through each of the songs, memories of different Alphabet Sisters performances coming back to her—singing “My Favorite Things” to an audience of five, two of them dogs, at an agricultural show in New South Wales. She remembered one hot, dry day in country Queensland, midway through their version of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,” when the three of them had inexplicably gotten the giggles so badly that Bett and then Carrie had fallen off the stage. It had almost become their party trick.

She stopped playing, walked to the window, and stared out into the carpark. Being back in the Valley again was sparking all sorts of memories. Not just about Matthew, and the terrible fight with Anna and Carrie, but everything that had happened afterward as well. Her mind had been filled with thoughts of it all week.

The morning after the fight, she’d gotten up at dawn, packed one small bag, filled her car with petrol, and started driving. From a roadside motel en route to Melbourne she’d phoned the
Valley Times
office and taken leave without pay until further notice. She’d called a friend from journalism college now based in Melbourne and explained what had happened. By nightfall, she was set up in her friend’s spare room.

The next three months had passed in a kind of frenzy. With too much time on her hands, she’d started drinking too much, talking too much to cover the hurt and confusion. She had found some freelance work with city newspapers, started falling in and out of bars with a fluid, rowdy gang of reporters, sub-editors, photographers. She hadn’t told anyone the real reason she was in Melbourne. She’d done her best to block it out of her mind and nearly succeeded.

Until the night in Carlton, seeing a band in a new club, she had bumped into an old work colleague from home. She’d been surprised to see him. “I didn’t realize you were in Melbourne.”

“I didn’t know you were here either.”

She didn’t know if he knew the circumstances of her leaving the Valley, but she was strangely glad to see a familiar face. He bought her a drink, then another one. She hadn’t eaten all day and ignored the light-headed feeling. The vodka fueled her confidence, helped her pretend to be carefree, as they swapped stories of newspaper life, keeping it light, fun.

It got later, and the band finished playing. They went for another drink, on to a late-night bar together for more vodka, and then she found herself back in his flat, alone with him. She had been talking all night and remembered getting upset, even crying a little about something. Had it been about Carrie and Matthew? The fight with Anna? All of that and more. He had taken her in his arms and given her a sympathetic hug, and that’s when the evening had changed. She was the one who’d changed it into a closer hug, a different sort of hug. She’d made it happen. Insisted on it. She wanted to kiss him, touch him in a way she’d never done with Matthew. She wanted to rid herself of memories of Matthew, to feel different, to behave in a way she’d never behaved. She wanted to cancel out any tears and vulnerability she’d shown him that evening, wanted to cover it over with sex, sweat, kissing, stroking, thrusts, arched backs, marking nails, and biting mouths.… 

When she awoke the next morning, wild and reckless Bett was long gone, leaving ashamed and hungover Bett lying there naked beside him. She lifted his arm from her waist, moved away, trying not to make any noise. “Don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up,” she prayed, edging out of the room, into the living room, gathering her clothes, bag, and jacket, dressing, then slipping out quickly. She didn’t leave a note. It was a big city. They never had to see each other again.

Back home she’d taken to her bed for the rest of the day. By nightfall she’d been desperate to talk to someone about it. Too shy to tell her flatmate, unable to ring her sisters, she’d called Lola and told her everything. As she sketched the story, moments kept coming back to her, making her nearly yelp aloud in embarrassment. Oh, God. Had she really cried in his arms? Another shudder as she remembered insisting on kissing him. Insisting on having sex with him. She’d felt it in her body all day, a warm kind of ache, between her legs, on her skin. Memories that would have been sensual, pleasant, if they hadn’t made her want to howl in shame.

Lola had been nonjudgmental. “Perhaps it was better that it was someone you knew, not a complete stranger. Did you use contraception?”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

“Do you want to see him again?”

“Of course I don’t. How could I face him?” Then she’d started crying. “I’m unhappy, Lola. That’s not me. I don’t do things like that. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Bett, it was a one-night stand, not a mass murder. Keep it in perspective. Do you want to come back home?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’d get used to seeing Carrie and Matthew together.”

“Lola, I don’t want to see Carrie and Matthew together. I don’t want everyone watching me to see how I react, people talking about me behind my back.”

“This is such a scandal people would be talking about it in front of your back, believe me. Darling, have you lost your sense of humor somewhere? Come on, it’s a broken romance. Millions of people have those every day.”

“But I never wanted to be like millions of other people. And I’m sick of making a mess of things.” The words started tumbling out of her. “I wanted to be fearless and do something wonderful and splendid and remarkable, and I haven’t and I don’t think I ever will. I’m scared all the time, Lola.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of being embarrassed. Of making a fool of myself.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Everyone is scared of those things. You need to be clearer with me, darling.”

Bett only had to think for a moment. “I’m scared of loads of things. Of being on my own.” Of sex, whether she did it properly or not. But she didn’t want to tell Lola that. She thought of other things instead. “I’m scared of seeing my body in mirrors in changing rooms in clothes shops, and snooty shop assistants making fun of me.” She managed to laugh. “I’m scared of stupid things, too. Like eating oysters. Reverse parking. Airplanes. Mobile phones …”

“Is that all? I thought you were scared about serious things.”

“They’re serious to me.”

“But you can overcome all of them. You know the saying, Bett. You have to face your fears.”

“Where do I start? Make a list? Tick them off?”

“Leave it with me. For now, get into your pajamas, go to bed, and have an early night. Don’t have a drink. Be patient. And calm down.”

The first decree had arrived exactly three days later. Just a postcard, addressed to Bett, with one line in the center.

Eat an oyster.

That’s all it said. For a moment she thought it was a new marketing ploy, targeting people one by one. Then she recognized the handwriting. Lola’s. She phoned her. “What do you mean, eat an oyster?”

“You’re scared of them. So face them. Go and eat one. Then write to me—don’t phone me—and tell me how you got on.”

She did it. She hated it but she did it nevertheless. Her report to Lola was also sent on a postcard.
I went to a seafood restaurant last night with my flatmate Yvonne. She ordered oysters, and I ate one. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten, like swallowing a salty slug that has been lying in water in the sun and gone bad. It took three glasses of wine to get the taste out of my mouth.

The reply came by return post.
Good, brave girl.

For the next four weeks the one-line postcards arrived like clockwork.
Go to the theater on your own. Go out to dinner on your own.
Each time, Bett took on the task, and wrote home to tell Lola exactly what had happened. A week later, another card would arrive.
Good, brave girl,
with another task set beside it.

Then a surprising one arrived.

Go and live overseas.