Tiddas (26 page)

‘Oh,' Richard hesitated, ‘you know I don't do theatre, sis. It's not my thing.'

‘If you come, then it
will
be your thing.' She clicked on the link to a review. ‘Anyway, it's not theatre, it's a comedy show. A funny local girl.' Izzy clicked through pages. ‘Here we go. She's known as “Brisbane's cardigan assassin” and talks about life with her father Barry. It looks like it'll be a hoot.'

‘I don't know.' Richard didn't sound interested, but the fact was Izzy wanted some time with her brother.

‘Listen, we need to talk. So, let's watch this then have something to eat. We never do anything together.'

Izzy was right. Neither of them could remember the last time they'd spent time together just as brother and sister. The last couple of times they'd been together socially were the NAIDOC Ball and their aunt's wake, and both had ended in disaster.

‘Yep, you're right. I'll pick you up from work if you like. Just text me the time tomorrow.'

The phone went dead, both siblings concerned about what needed to be said, and what role each of them would play.

Later that night, the pair were laughing hysterically at the young comedian, nudging each other at various jokes they found funny. Watching the show together had proved to be a good icebreaker. Sitting on the balcony afterwards, Izzy pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. It was chillier than she expected.

‘How are you feeling?' Richard asked, looking at his sister's belly.

‘I've gained about four kilos, which looks like ten on camera.' Izzy hadn't stopped being vain during the past months and the changes in her body shape led to a constant fear of getting fat. The thought of never losing the weight played on her mind even in her sleep.

‘Don't be worried about the weight, sis, you look great. It's a good sign to be growing healthy-like.' Richard thought back to when Nadine was pregnant: she was huge with Cameron, they knew it was going to be a boy, and he was thrilled. But Brittany was still his little princess.

‘Sometimes in the still of the night,' Izzy smiled as she spoke, ‘the baby's heartbeat is so strong I'm sure I can hear it. It's insane, I never thought I'd feel this way.'

Even with her fears, Izzy couldn't believe the transformation she'd already gone through, mentally and emotionally. The spider veins appearing on her ankles and legs were causing her worry; there was a history of varicose veins in her maternal line, and she desperately hoped she wouldn't be the next woman to get them. Running her hand over her ever expanding belly though, any anxiety was replaced with the warm glow of pending motherhood. She'd started to believe the words of her mother, that this would be the most extraordinary experience of her life.

There was a moment's silence.

‘Book club is meant to be at your place this month, I don't think it's a good idea,' Izzy said.

‘Nor do I,' Richard agreed, holding firmly onto his orange juice. He never drank when he was driving, there was too much at risk living so far out of the city. If neither he nor Nadine had a licence things would be really difficult.

‘I've got tickets for us all to go see something at QPAC. I'll call Nadine and see if she wants to join us, but honestly,' she took a deep breath, ‘we're all worried about her, Richard, really very worried.' Izzy paused to consider how she would phrase the next sentence. She decided to keep it simple. ‘But we're also sick of her getting so drunk she carries on the way she does.' It was the brutal truth, but Izzy had to tell it.

‘I understand.' Richard looked out over the dark river. ‘It's one of the reasons we never go out anymore. She's burnt
so many bridges everywhere she goes; no-one wants us there. Did you know Mum doesn't want her back in Mudgee?'

Izzy could hear the distress in her brother's voice.

‘I know,' she said gently, touching her brother's hand. ‘Mum'll come round, she loves Nadine, but she needs to change before she can go back there. Mum hates all the bitching and anger that comes with Nadine on the drink.'

Richard remained silent.

‘I know it's different at home when you're alone,' Izzy said. ‘Nadine tells us how you two just sit and talk a lot, and she likes having you at home while she's writing.'

Richard looked his sister square in the eye. ‘She's a beautiful person, Iz, really she is.'

‘I know she is.' Izzy could feel the pain in her brother's heart. ‘She's generous and kind, we all know that. But she's different at home because there's no competition for the limelight there.' Izzy was trying to see the difference between Nadine's behaviour with her husband and with her friends. ‘She's the star when she's with you, or on tour. She's centre stage at those times, and even if she says she doesn't like it, it's when she appears to be happiest; when all the love is directed at her, and only her.'

‘What?' Richard looked confused.

‘You make her the centre of attention at home, and that's good, that's your role as hubby, but when she's out with us, she wants everything to revolve around her.' Izzy couldn't stop herself going on. ‘You'd die if you saw how she and Ellen bicker sometimes, and you know there's always been competition with me, but my profile is nothing like hers.'

‘But Nadine doesn't even like the profile thing.'

‘So she says but, truly, sometimes she behaves like a spoilt brat, until she gets
really
pissed and then she's just a pain in the arse.' Izzy's capacity to remain pleasant while speaking about Nadine's behaviour had vanished. She hoped it was her hormones talking.

‘Oh God, I didn't know.' Richard sighed and shook his head simultaneously.

‘Her needing attention isn't the problem, Richard. We all love her, she's fabulous.' Izzy took another deep breath, as if to suck in courage. ‘But it's like she has to get drunk to maintain an interest in anyone else's life, and when she's pissed she loses her capacity to keep herself in check.' Izzy turned to face her brother. ‘I just don't know how she even manages to get any work done. I rarely see her sober. She must have hangovers, I don't know,
all the time!
'

Richard sighed.

Izzy felt bad. ‘It's not your fault,' she tried to reassure him. ‘We're all responsible, and so,' she hesitated, ‘we were thinking of doing an intervention, but maybe you need to suggest AA or a clinic?'

‘Are you fucking serious?' Richard snapped. ‘Can you imagine me doing that? She'll cut off my balls and wear them as earrings.'

‘Well, what did you have in mind?'

Richard's brow furrowed. ‘I'm going to start by talking to her about her problem.
Our
problem.'

Ellen, Xanthe, Izzy and Veronica met at QPAC just before the show started. It was bucketing down and they were all cold and damp. The sudden downpour had slowed traffic all around town with flash flooding and minor accidents closing lanes. It wasn't the best start to an evening that was always going to be emotionally charged, given the theme of the production was the Stolen Generations.

Each had eaten on the run, or not at all. Ellen had lost some of her appetite lately, in denial that she was lovesick for Craig and any spare time was spent making love, not meals. She was constantly on the go with a protein shake in her hand and a post-coital glow on her face.

Izzy was grazing all day on what she'd discovered during her research online were pregnancy power foods: pinto beans, carrots, blueberries and yoghurt. She'd previously been a fan of canned tuna and salmon because they were convenient when she was on the go, but having read about high mercury levels had cut them out of her diet altogether. The only thing she really missed was coffee. Xanthe – who had become a pregnancy advisor of sorts to Izzy – had told her that caffeine dehydrates and depletes calcium levels and low calcium had been linked to prematurity, miscarriage, low birth weight and withdrawal symptoms in infants. After that, Izzy bypassed her morning coffee and started drinking fruit teas instead. She was never hungry though, and hoped the weight gain was all baby. She also noticed how her nails and hair were growing at a rapid rate, with a strength and fullness they'd not had before. ‘I didn't realise there were some perks to pregnancy,' she told her mother on the phone recently.

Veronica had spent the afternoon cooking up a storm for John and had eaten some of the massive beef lasagne before leaving home. While Xanthe, who arrived straight from the airport following a training session in Bundaberg, had reluctantly eaten a snack on the flight back to Brisbane. She was stressed by the time she got there. Not that it was unusual for her to be on the road presenting to mining companies, government agencies and community organisations. She was happiest when she was helping to write and implement social issues policies and training packages for the workplace, even though the work was challenging and often caused her sleepless nights. It was normal for her to lie awake rethinking what a redneck employee had thrown at her during a session on Australian history in which she'd covered the Coniston massacre, the Tasmanian Line and the Stolen Generations. Even after the mainstream release of the film version of
Rabbit-Proof Fence
and Kevin Rudd's national apology in 2008, she couldn't believe there were still Australians who knew so little about their own history and still needed to be convinced of the value in saying sorry. Heading to see the play
Stolen
, she was already emotionally drained.

Izzy scratched her belly.

‘What's wrong with you?' Ellen asked.

‘I'm fucking itchy all the time. The more my boobs and belly stretch, the itchier I feel. It's weird, I hate it.' She reached down to her feet. ‘My soles are itchy, my palms are itchy and I can tell you, it's not for money.' She scratched some more.

‘How many weeks are you now?' Veronica asked.

‘Twenty-two,' Izzy guessed, not wanting to look like she didn't know exactly how far along she was.

‘That sounds about right,' Xanthe offered. ‘I think they're standard symptoms at that stage, I'm sorry to tell you.'

‘Well, at least you know what you're in for when it happens,' Izzy said, positive her tidda would soon fall pregnant.

‘My fingers are numb, my mouth tastes like it's full of metal and my eyes are dry.' Izzy started to cry. ‘Whoever said pregnancy was a beautiful thing was fucking lying.'

Xanthe tried not to let the comment affect her. She wanted to experience for herself all the things Izzy was going through. She had done a pregnancy test two days ago, and had another in her handbag. She'd now bought take-home tests from every chemist in a ten-kilometre radius of her home, and even when she was in different towns and cities.

‘Oh,' Izzy grasped her chest.

‘What is it?' Veronica jumped up.

‘Fucking heartburn, I'm falling apart.' As a pregnant woman, Izzy was like a fella with a man-cold, a terrible ‘patient'.

‘You do realise the first word your child says is going to be “fuck” if you don't stop swearing all the time,' Ellen said, laughing.

‘See, I'm already a fucked mother!'

Xanthe said nothing.

‘Your hair looks really pretty, Ellen,' Veronica said, admiring the extra length Ellen was sporting, but also trying to change the subject. She could tell Xanthe was sullen.

‘Yes, I've decided to let it grow.' Ellen ran her fingers through her marginally longer locks. ‘Craig likes women with long hair.'

Izzy raised an eyebrow. ‘Wow, we're changing our style for a bloke now? Never thought I'd see that happen,' she grinned.

‘No I'm not!' Ellen said defensively, screwing her face up as if to say,
What are you talking about?
‘I'd never do that!' she said adamantly, but fooling no-one.

‘You've had short hair for as long as I can remember,' Xanthe said, thinking back to their days in Mudgee. ‘Even through school. God, remember the school photos?'

‘Yes, yes, but maybe I want a change. Maybe Nadine was right, maybe I do look a bit blokish.'

‘If that's the case, then you're telling us that at the age of forty you've started listening to what Nadine has to say about you.'

‘As if I'd ever admit to
that
. Come on, the bells are ringing, let's head in.'

They made their way to the doors of the Cremorne Theatre along with throngs of other theatregoers: reviewers, drama aficionados, school and uni students, and members of the Stolen Generations themselves.
There's an unusual number of Murris here tonight
, Xanthe thought to herself, but perhaps that was because she'd been so busy travelling for work the past couple of years, she rarely got the chance to see plays.

For the next hundred minutes the women underwent a range of emotions, as students from the Aboriginal Centre for the Performing Arts used music, dance and drama to tell
stories of children removed from their families under the Protection policies that once existed in Queensland. The finale had them all in tears as each performer sang out their character's own experience of removal.