Tiddas (13 page)

‘Did you sleep with him too?' Nadine asked jokingly.

Ellen ignored her.

‘You should've bought two, it looks fab on you,' Izzy continued, doing her best to steer the conversation away from what was increasingly looking like another dig at her tidda.

‘It's perfect for this heat too.' Ellen wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, shut the sliding glass door and cranked up the air-conditioning. ‘I think we should eat, no?'

Ellen stepped around Veronica and into the kitchen. She passed out breadsticks and a platter of oysters, prawns, lemon wedges and avocado. Everything was placed on a sleek, white
coffee table in the middle of the room and the women rested plates in their laps. The flat was too small for a dining room table, and it was pointless squeezing five of them around the small table she had pushed up against the wall.

Hours later, the women were still chatting.

‘I met this author at the Brisbane Writers' Festival,' said Nadine. ‘You all know I hardly ever do big events anymore, not my scene, to be honest they never were.' She was getting pissed and starting to ramble in her attempt to get the discussion going on the book they were doing for May.

‘But I did this one, this festival, and I was
sooo
glad,' she slurred. Her tiddas were used to her ways and let her go, this time because they had all enjoyed the novel she'd chosen.

‘I was totally blown away by her. And so was Richard. I think he was trying to see if they were related, even though she's originally from the Torres Strait. Or should I say he was using it as an excuse to talk to her.' Nadine rolled her eyes, remembering back her husband's borderline flirting.

‘What?' Izzy shook her head.

‘Oh, she's hot, I mean sexy and funny and can sing. Your brother was drooling. I had to pick his chin up off the floor.' Nadine laughed; she had never felt threatened by any other women.

‘As if, he'd
never
look at another woman, not in front of you anyway,' Izzy said, dismissing any suggestion that her brother would be unfaithful.

‘Don't kid yourself. Your
brother
,' Nadine pointed her finger at Izzy, ‘is still a man. He still looks at women.' Nadine crossed and re-crossed her legs, took a sip from her glass.
‘He just knows that no matter where he gets his appetite he has to eat at home.'

Veronica was dying inside. She couldn't remember the last time her ex-husband had looked at her with wanting in his eyes. She couldn't remember if he'd
ever
drooled over her. All she remembered was that he'd stopped eating at home many, many years ago. She felt a huge flush of sadness and hoped that she wouldn't start to cry. She hadn't taken her medication because she knew she'd want to have a drink and didn't want to mix the two.

‘Anyway, I bought her book and loved it. Richard even read it, and you know he only ever reads
mine
because he wants to see if he's in there.' The girls were all guilty of doing the same thing but said nothing. ‘And finally, because it's time I let someone else speak – '

Ellen cut her off. ‘Why? Don't let go of the microphone on account of four other people with opinions, Nadine,' she mocked.

Nadine ignored the comment, and finished her spiel. ‘I really wanted to know what you tiddas thought.' She looked especially at the Koori women in the room.

Xanthe leant forward on the couch. ‘I loved
Butterfly Song
. The main character had career aspirations, lived in the city, had a love life
and
had commitment to community.' She nodded, as if to herself. ‘Actually, Tarena Shaw reminded me a little of me.'

‘Me too,' Izzy said excitedly. ‘It was like when I went to uni, although there were far fewer Blackfellas doing degrees back then. She's an inspiring character and could act as a role
model in literature to heaps of young women. I hope they teach this in schools.' Izzy got out her Moleskine, always writing down notes for potential ideas related to her program. She'd check on Monday if there was a chance of an interview with the author at some stage, and make sure there were multiple copies of the novel in the library. She was already thinking about hooks for a story.

‘Actually,' Veronica finally found a place she could contribute, not always knowing when it was okay for her to comment on ‘Black' issues when she was a whajin, or migloo, as they said in Queensland. ‘The new national curriculum has a focus on Indigenous studies so hopefully there'll be more novels like this in schools.'

‘That's good, because I reckon this is the closest thing to the great Australian novel that I've ever read,' Izzy added. ‘It just encompasses so much of this country's spirit.'

‘I agree,' Ellen added. ‘It's a love story, a legal lesson, and a comment on modern Blackfellas just like us.' The conversation had suddenly become the most analytical they'd seen at book club for a long time.

‘For me, as an author,' Nadine said, cementing her authority, ‘I loved that it was a treasure trove of eloquent writing. I wish I could write like that.' She sipped her drink, wondering if prose could be so elegant in a novel about murder, crime, blood and gore.

Xanthe, ever the hopeless romantic, appreciated something different all together. ‘I loved the story of the grandparents, guitarman Kit and Francesca his frangipani princess.' She smiled, thinking back to the scenes she liked most.
‘I liked how their eternal love was symbolised in the butterfly brooch Kit carved for his lady.' Xanthe sighed deeply, recalling Spencer's romantic gestures: breakfast in bed, holding her hand while watching television, bringing home flowers just for the sake of it. He was her Kit, even if he wouldn't talk about IVF.

‘That's interesting, Xanthe, because I actually read it as a form of crime novel,' Nadine said, not arguing but clearly having a different reading of the book.

‘Really?' Xanthe frowned.
How could we both read it so differently
, she thought to herself.

‘Well, the brooch
was
stolen at one point, which led Tarena to research and defend her first case, without yet receiving her uni marks. She plays detective
and
lawyer.'

‘Fair enough,' Xanthe said, accepting that Nadine's reading was as valid as her own.

With her reconciliation mind ticking over, Veronica added, ‘I really appreciated getting a simple understanding of native title and the Mabo decision. I want to be able to articulate it better when I meet people who are racist.'

‘It's an important book for Murris in Queensland too, especially given the size of the Torres Strait Islander population, even just here in Brisbane,' Xanthe said, offering the last couple of oysters to the girls.

Izzy nearly gagged, and hoped that no-one noticed. No-one had asked about the pregnancy, and she didn't want to talk about it.

‘Speaking of Islanders, that reminds me we should go to this.' Xanthe handed a flyer to Ellen.

She scanned it and handed it to Veronica. ‘I'm not going, take Veronica and Nadine with you.'

‘Why?' Xanthe asked, disappointed.

‘Cos I can assure you the audience will be all whitefellas, and you'll probably be the youngest ones there too.'

Xanthe was offended by Ellen's response. ‘What's wrong with you? Aren't you interested in learning about your fellow Indigenous Australians?'

‘Hey, this is Aboriginal land. I am interested in learning about Aboriginal people. I don't say I'm Indigenous, do you?' Ellen looked sternly at Xanthe and then glanced across at Izzy.

‘I prefer Wiradjuri, Koori or Aboriginal if need be,' Izzy said, knowing the conversation inside out. ‘I rarely say Indigenous because we're different to Torres Strait Islanders.'

‘What are you talking about? Aren't you all Indigenous to Australia?' Veronica couldn't understand what the girls were arguing about.

‘Actually, my tidda,' Xanthe responded in training mode, calmly and diplomatically, ‘We are the first peoples of Australia. The Torres Strait Islands were annexed to Queensland in 1879 by an act of Parliament. The truth is, they could easily have been annexed to Papua New Guinea instead.'

Xanthe looked to Izzy for some follow-up.

‘Yes, Vee, we are different peoples, different cultures, different identities. I'm a bit sick of being clumped in with another group all the time simply because of some bit of old legislation.'

‘Wow, that's full-on,' Nadine said. ‘Richard never talks about things like this.'

‘Richard is disconnected from a lot, living up there with you and the kids. He never comes to events, never marches. He should be taking his kids to experience what goes on down here in the cultural precinct and in Musgrave Park on NAIDOC Day, even if it's just for the stalls and music.' Izzy was getting agitated; her brother's apathy towards local Aboriginal politics pissed her off sometimes. ‘I'm always emailing him information about what we've got on – events, storytelling, kids' days, weekend activities. He doesn't even bother responding.' Izzy was really annoyed. ‘And he doesn't
talk
about it because he's never in a space
to
talk about it. And if our get-togethers didn't come with booze, then
you
wouldn't be here to talk about it either.'

Izzy was immediately sorry she had descended to that level, but it was true. Richard was so busy looking after his wife and kids that he didn't get involved in anything outside of their immediate lives. And he rarely went back to Mudgee. Izzy felt he wasn't setting a good example for his son in the way he related to his own mother or their culture. Not that Richard had a bad relationship with Trish; he just didn't make an effort. And when Richard did call or do anything else, Trish was so grateful she gushed for weeks.

‘I'm the aunty, I can take Brit and Cam to community things, but they've got parents, and a lot of stuff is
your
job.'

Nadine felt a massive pang of guilt and the room went quiet.

‘On that note, I think it's time for some tiramsu,' Ellen said. Food always got the group back on track.

Two of the tiddas were in sky blue and the other three wore maroon. They used the State of Origin as an excuse to catch up. Since Veronica had announced her depression, each of the others had become conscious of the need to support her, and pretending to give a shit about football was a good disguise for giving that support.

‘You are both traitors!' Nadine said to Ellen and Izzy, who were backing the cane toads.

‘Listen, I want to barrack for the Blues, but ever since Andrew Johns called Greg Inglis a “Black C” I can't support them,' Izzy said, remembering how disgusted she was when she first saw the news reports in 2010.

‘But Laurie Daley is the coach. Richard said we have to support him because he copped an unfair mouthful from Mundine just like Geale did,' Nadine said.

‘Oh yes, that's true, but Queensland has the most Blackfellas playing, which means they've got more good-looking players
and
the best chance to win.' Ellen had her own reasons for crossing borders.

Veronica wasn't sold on Ellen's argument. ‘I might be wrong, Ellen, but I think it could be racist to go for a team because of the colour of their players.'

‘Oh for fuck's sake, I was joking, Vee. We can be Black
and
have a sense of humour, you know? It's okay, we even laugh at ourselves a lot.'

Veronica felt chastised. Ellen felt immediately guilty; of all the people she didn't want to upset it was Vee. Ellen moved
closer and put her arm around her tidda's shoulder. ‘Oh don't be offended, you know me well enough. Truth is, I'm glad you keep us on our toes, Vee, but don't go telling any tales at your reconciliation meeting, okay? What we say here is sacred, just for us.'

‘Of course,' Veronica said, feeling the love from Ellen. ‘Tidda time is
our
time.'