Tiddas (10 page)

The other four women were relieved and grateful.

‘Yes. When? Definitely. Please!' came the responses from Izzy, Ellen, Xanthe and Nadine.

Each was conscious of her own role on that fateful Saturday. Each was missing her tiddas and wanting things to be back to normal, or as normal as they could be with each of the five struggling in a key area of her life. The tiddas loved each other; they just didn't love themselves sometimes. A birthday celebration was as good a reason as any to try to move on as if nothing had happened. At least they were all willing to forgive each other.

They sat in Piaf on Grey Street, looking at the menu. Nadine put a $50 note in the middle of the table. ‘Dare someone to
order the spatchCOCK!' She rounded her mouth perfectly when she said ‘cock' without even a hint of a smile. It was a game they had played before, laughing like teenage girls at something so stupid. But it worked a treat and the women were in tears of laughter again. ‘Thank God,' Nadine said, ‘I was frightened we'd all lost our sense of humour.'

When a young waiter came to the table the tiddas were still catching their breath, giggling, wiping tears from cheeks.

‘I can see it's going to be a long but fun night,' he said cheekily. ‘Is that my tip already?' He looked hopefully at Nadine's cash.

‘Actually no, that's mine,' Ellen said, putting the note seductively in her bra. ‘I'll have the spatch
COCK
!' she said, eyeballing the lad who would've been in his mid-twenties.

‘Oh, that's original. Haven't had anyone do that before,' he fired back.

They all laughed some more. It was like old times, but after recent events, they knew the mood could change soon enough.

Their orders taken and drinks poured, the women relaxed, with no real agenda other than to celebrate Nadine's birthday and hopefully get back to feeling comfortable with each other's current emotional circumstances and life choices.

‘Are you going to the Brookfield Show?' Izzy asked Nadine. ‘Thought I'd go with you and hang with d'niece and d'nephew.'

Nadine almost spat her wine out with laugher. ‘You must be kidding?'

‘No?' Izzy was a bit confused. ‘Why would I be kidding?'

‘You know me well enough to know that I'm not remotely interested in cooking, drawing or needlework.'

‘Fair call,' Izzy said, reminded of how undomesticated her sister-in-law was.

But she was shocked to hear Nadine continue, ‘I'm more likely to stick a needle in a voodoo doll of one of the women who live in Brookfield.'

Izzy couldn't believe what came out of her sister-in-law's mouth sometimes, but the one good thing about Nadine was you knew where you stood. She was brutally honest, but at least she was honest.

‘I'll take the kids then, will I? And go with Richard.'

‘They'd love that. You are an excellent aunty,' Nadine said, raising her wine glass in appreciation of Izzy's efforts with her kids. No-one commented that she'd also make an excellent mum.

‘The kids do love buying butterfly cakes there, and Richard always wants to sit and eat scones. Me? I prefer the Happy Hour Bar, so I may just see you there.'

It was like nothing had happened two weeks before; conversation was easy, there was no bitching and the mood was gentle. They were all on their best behaviour. Xanthe was conscious of the effort she was making not to bring up her conception dramas, Ellen wasn't talking about being single and shaggable, Izzy was twelve weeks and had started counting the days. Time was running out for a termination.

As the night got late, the spatchcock, the pork belly, the seared scallops, the almond-butter-glazed seasonal greens,
and the roasted baby beetroots had disappeared. And Nadine was not-so-slowly getting pissed on what Izzy realised was the third bottle of Beaujolais to arrive at the table.

‘Must be time for presents, is it?' Xanthe was conscious of getting home to Spencer, given he'd been away for three days and she was ovulating. She kept that information to herself though. ‘I hope you like this.' She handed Nadine a white gift bag with canary yellow tissue paper sticking out the top.

‘I'm sure I will,' Nadine said, peeking into the bag.

‘If they don't fit, let me know; they're easily exchanged.'

Nadine pulled out a pair of yoga pants and three tops.

‘I know you do Pilates at home but you still need the right gear to train in,' Xanthe said.

‘These are perfect. You know I hate shopping and I do need some new clothes.' Nadine leaned over and kissed Xanthe on the cheek, losing her balance just enough to be noticed before she saved herself from falling onto the table.

‘This is my funny gift for you.' Ellen handed Nadine what was obviously a book.

‘Oh, let me guess, it's a fit ball,' Nadine shook it around, pretending to wonder what it was.

‘Just open it,' Ellen said.

‘
Fifty Shades of Grey
, hmmm, yes, well, I think you need this more than I do. I've got all the sex I want, and I've got plenty of better books than this to read.'

‘Oh, I know, I just thought it was funny. I'm going to write my own book and call it
Fifty Shades of Black
, but it's about identity.' Ellen had it all sorted.

‘I like that,' Izzy said, taking her notebook out and scribbling quickly. ‘I might pinch that title for a segment on contemporary visual art.'

‘And here's my serious gift for you.' Ellen slid a small box down the length of the table.

Nadine opened the gift as if it were a delicate egg, easily broken. ‘They're gorgeous, El, thank you.' She took out the hoop earrings she was wearing and with some help from Izzy, who was sitting next to her, put in the small sapphire studs.

‘I thought they were understated but nice, like you.' Ellen rolled her eyes at her attempt to be generous and sincere without sounding too corny.

‘I am seriously lucky. You girls know I don't really expect gifts, don't you?' Nadine meant it; even though she was incredibly generous herself, she really didn't require her friendships to come with tangible evidence of caring. But the tiddas always celebrated birthdays in style.

‘Well, I'll just keep this for myself then,' Izzy said, waving a silver envelope in the air.

‘Oh, give it here. If you've written on a card, then at least let me read it.'

It was a gift voucher to a day spa in Brisbane.

‘I thought we could go together, you know, spend some sisterly time together or something,' Izzy said, trying to play down the effort she was making, but acknowledging that Nadine and Richard and their children were her only blood family this side of the Queensland border.

‘It's a great idea, thank you, Izzy. I'm really, really chuffed.
Really, I am.' Nadine was beginning to not only slur her words but also repeat them. ‘I'm really chuffed,' she said again.

Veronica looked over towards the waiter and winked. The tiddas' energy levels had lowered and the mood was peaceful.

‘I didn't know what to buy you, Nadine, you seem to have everything, so I just made you something.' Veronica smiled as, on cue, a pale pink cake made in the shape of a gift box with a white ribbon bow of icing appeared at the table. Four candles, one for each decade, had been lit and the cheeky waiter started the table singing a speedy version of ‘Happy Birthday'. The women cheered, hip hip hoorayed and Nadine made a wish.

‘This is absolutely beautiful, Vee,' Nadine said, smiling through glassy eyes. ‘Thank you so much, you are very clever and generous. I can't remember if I've ever baked a cake.' Nadine started cutting slices and putting them on plates. ‘You are very clever and generous,' she repeated.

‘I like to bake, it makes me happy. Well, happier,' Veronica said sullenly. ‘I almost wish the boys were still at school so I could bake cakes for their fetes and fundraisers. It's good to be busy.'

Veronica appeared a little scatty but she hadn't been drinking. Xanthe wondered what was going on with her, and realised that she'd looked at her watch so many times during the evening, that she hadn't noticed how sad Veronica appeared.

‘Are you all right, Vee?' she finally asked.

‘Yes, I'm fine. I've been drawing, and baking, and I joined a gym. I don't really like doing weights, but it's good because
there are other women there, and sometimes we have coffee.' She was rambling.

‘What's going on, Vee? There's something you're not telling us,' Ellen said.

Veronica felt embarrassed, ashamed even, but she didn't know why. Perhaps it was because she'd seen how each of the tiddas had reacted to the various confessions of recent weeks.

‘I'm seeing a therapist,' Veronica said softly, looking around to make sure no-one else in the restaurant could hear. ‘A Jungian therapist.'

‘Why?' Nadine asked. ‘You are more together than any of us.' It was meant to be a compliment to Veronica, but came out as a slap in the face to the others.

‘Speak for yourself,' Ellen said.

Veronica ignored Ellen and for the first time kept the focus on herself. ‘I can't remember the last time I was happy. I just want to be happy again. I think I've done a good job keeping my depression at bay by exercising and being healthy. I don't want to take medication. And I've given up caffeine; it seems to exacerbate every emotion, in a negative way.

‘You
will
be happy, Vee, it's just going to take some time.'

‘But how long? How much time does it take? I can't keep going on like this.' Veronica started weeping. ‘Bloody hell. I'm paying this woman and I sit there and cry, and then I go home and cry, and now I'm here crying.'

‘What does the therapist say, Vee?' Izzy hoped Veronica was getting some decent advice.

‘She thinks I might be bipolar . . .' Veronica broke down in tears again.

‘Oh for fuck's sake, you're not bipolar, or ADHADBDFEFG or whatever the fuck they call it these days,' Ellen said, exasperated.

‘That's not the politically correct term, Ellen,' Xanthe said. ‘And what do you know about being bipolar, or having ADHD?'

‘The point I am trying to make to our dear friend,' Ellen looked directly at Veronica, ‘is that you're just sad and emotional. Crying isn't a bad thing. It's a way of releasing what you feel.'

‘Tears are the cleanest water you can wash your face with,' Nadine added. ‘That's what your mother always tells the kids anyway,' she said to Izzy.

Ellen glared at Nadine. She was trying to have a serious, sensible conversation with someone who was clearly sad, perhaps suffering from depression, but who should not be diagnosed by someone not qualified to do it. ‘I'm so over people labelling everyone with a medical condition when sometimes it's just about heartache or pain or sadness. I see sad people every day. They are overcome with grief. Sometimes it takes years for them to recover. But they are not sick, they do not have a mental illness, they are just fucking sad.'

‘It's like adults are bipolar, kids have ADHD and every second person is allergic to something,' Nadine agreed, surprising the others. ‘None of us had anaphylactic fits at school. My kids can't even take peanut butter sandwiches for their lunch anymore, did you know that?' Nadine was over the limit in her usual fashion but the other women did their best to ignore her and focus on Veronica.

‘I'm fine, I'm going to be fine,' Veronica said. ‘I just need to keep busy, I need a new focus.' She blew her nose. ‘The boys are all doing their own thing, they don't want to be hanging out with their mother. You are the only other people in my life, my only real friends and I'm feeling really socially isolated now. That's what happens when you focus all your energy on your family and have no outside interests. I really need to change that.'

‘You know what they say, Vee, the quickest way to get over a man is to get under another one.' Ellen's words were outrageous.

Nadine wanted to slap Ellen. ‘For fuck's sake, she doesn't need another bloke.'

‘I don't
need
or want another man, I just want a life, a meaningful life, for
me!
' Veronica put her hand on her chest, acknowledging that her commitment over a solid two decades had been about creating meaningful lives for her children and husband. He'd walked out on her two years ago for another woman and she'd been grieving ever since. But it was time to stop. It was
her
turn to live, her turn to be supported, and her turn to be loved.

‘Anyway, I've never been with another man. I don't even think I could trust another one.'

‘Amen to that!' Ellen said. ‘We don't need men to be happy, Vee, and some of us don't need children either.' Ellen could feel Xanthe's look but said nothing more. She knew only too well that happiness came from within. No man or kid could be expected to make a woman happy if she wasn't already mostly there.