Tiddas (29 page)

‘Right, I've got some friends I can line up things with later.' Ellen was already punching digits into her phone. ‘We'll go shopping, get your hair done and get someone to do your colours. This is going to be so cool.' Ellen sent a text message.

Veronica wasn't completely sure she was ready for whatever Ellen was planning, but she was grateful her friend was excited and keen to be part of what she'd termed ‘the new journey'.

The women met with the Dean of Creative Industries and talked through the degree and application process. Veronica's head was spinning with a mixture of excitement and self-doubt. But Ellen's positive affirmations were infectious; she insisted Vee only consider what life was going to be like once she'd enrolled at uni and was working towards achieving her degree. She looked at her watch and turned on her heel, taking Veronica by the arm.

‘Let's drop into the Oodgeroo Unit and say a quick hello to the mob there,' Ellen said. ‘I know a couple of people who work there. They'll take care of you.'

‘But I'm not Murri!'

‘You can still say hello to Murris, can't you?' Ellen joked, upping her pace. ‘You might like someone to have coffee with occasionally. Apart from my friends, there's students enrolled across various faculties. You might find some of them in Creative Industries.'

‘Oh that'd be cool. I'll need friends here.' Veronica was grateful to Ellen for helping her. ‘I couldn't have done this
alone, thank you.' She pulled Ellen closer to her side and gave her an affectionate hug.

As they walked arm in arm towards the Oodgeroo Unit in B Block, Ellen bumped into her friend Kelrick, who was responsible for the university's Indigenous employment strategy.

‘Biggest spunk on campus,' she said to the smiling fella in his late thirties.

‘Well, you must be talking about me,' he joked, air-kissing her and, even though he didn't know her, Veronica as well.

‘This is Kelrick, Vee. He'll tell you where the best coffee and feed is, and all the good looking blokes.'

‘The blokes I'll keep to myself, but the best coffee is Dancing Bean Espresso and for a little more cream with your coffee,' he winked, ‘try Room 60. In a rush though, darl, so will catch up soon. Drinks yes, call me, text me.' Kelrick was five steps away, walking backwards. ‘Love your shirt,' he said to Ellen. ‘And love your skirt,' he said to Veronica, making her feel a little less self-conscious about her wardrobe right then.

‘Pity he's gay,' Ellen whispered to Veronica as they walked off. ‘He'd be perfect for you, Vee.'

‘Oh, I don't think I could date a Blackfella,' Veronica said, immediately realising how poorly she'd phrased it.

‘What?' Ellen stopped in her tracks. ‘Please tell me you didn't say something racist just now. Really? Vee?'

‘No, of course not, it came out the wrong way. I have no issue with inter-racial relationships at all. Lots of them work better than other relationships. Nadine's and Xanthe's marriages are prime examples of what works well, don't you think?'

Ellen thought for a moment. She'd dated plenty of Blackfellas but nothing ever came of it. Her own parents' marriage didn't last, Veronica and Alex's hadn't, and yet Xanthe and Nadine had in fact married out of the mob, and were both still madly in love with their beaus.

‘The thing is,' Veronica began explaining herself, ‘I'm not a very strong woman, not like you and Izzy and Xanthe, and so I reckon a strong Black man would prefer a strong Black woman.'

‘Don't kid yourself, Vee.' Ellen rolled her eyes. ‘I've seen a lot of Black men choose weak women, not that you're one.' It was Ellen's turn to put her foot in her mouth. ‘You, dear tidda, are staunch, a deadly woman that any brother could love. What I'm saying is I'm always surprised to find some of our men who are in top jobs with excellent minds opting for women who are the complete opposite, almost airheads. So, my point is, you are not an airhead and would be the perfect partner for a good man of any colour, even Kelrick if he was into your kind of plumbing.'

To Veronica's relief they'd reached the door of the Oodgeroo Unit and any talk of partners and plumbing immediately ceased.

Ellen was focused on her iPad when Veronica arrived at the Cliffs Café at eight o'clock the next morning.

‘Sorry I'm late,' she said. ‘The traffic is awful during school hours. I really can't wait to move closer to the city. I can't
believe it never bothered me before.' Veronica was a little frazzled, but as soon as she looked out over the river from the top of the Kangaroo Point cliffs she felt relaxed.

‘After today, my dear tidda, your new look will require you to be right here, closer to the city and closer to me.' Ellen turned her iPad around so Veronica could read it.

A waitress delivered two coffees and two breakfast wraps at the same time. The smell of barbeque sauce hit Veronica's nostrils before the coffee did.

‘Sorry,' Ellen shrugged, hoping she didn't seem like a control freak. ‘You always have the same thing, so I just ordered it to save time.'

Ellen didn't want to waste a minute of the day. She'd seen Craig again the night before and hadn't slept much, but was on a lust-infatuation high. Veronica, on the other hand, just felt incredibly cared for and grateful for the new bond she and Ellen had formed in recent months. The silver lining in the end of her marriage was the beginning of a whole new life for Veronica, including deeper connections with her tiddas.

‘First stop is Westfield Chermside where we've got a personal shopper to help sort out your wardrobe.'

‘How did you organise that overnight? Aren't they booked weeks in advance?' Veronica didn't know a lot about stylists, but she imagined you couldn't just walk in off the street and expect one to materialise on the spot.

‘I did the service for her mother last year and she said if there was anything I ever needed then I should give her a buzz. So I did, and voila!' She took a sip of coffee. ‘Did you bring the list?' Ellen's eyes were wide with expectation.

Veronica grabbed a small red notepad from her bag and opened it to a page of notes listing her favourite colours, fabrics, designers, her own articles of clothing, reasons for shopping, most loved outfits and so on.

‘Great, this will help Sorina pull together some new looks for you.' Ellen looked back at her schedule. ‘I've allocated two hours with her, she works very fast and has another client at noon.' Ellen glanced at her watch. ‘Then we'll need lunch, say thirty minutes for that?' She looked up to check Veronica was okay with a short break. ‘Next we're going to see my friend Prue who's a hair magician. She moved some appointments around and is going to do something spectacular with your hair, I just know it.' Ellen fluffed up the ends of Veronica's bob, which was just sitting on her shoulders.

Veronica gently pushed Ellen's hands away. ‘What are you going to do with my hair?' she said, sounding like a sooky little girl.

‘It's time for a change, Vee. You've had that blunt bob as long as I can remember. I reckon you can do something much more exciting with it. No offence, but Prue has an eye for what suits the face of every woman she cuts and colours. Trust me, you will be happy. Very, very happy.'

‘I hope so,' Veronica said, slight panic in her blood.

‘After your hair we'll come back to the city to get your make-up done. Then you can either come back to mine and get ready for Nadine's launch, or go home.' Ellen handed Veronica a sheet of paper. ‘Here's a printed copy of the schedule, contact numbers and emails for any follow-up you might need.'

‘My God, you're organised, aren't you?'

‘I think Nadine calls me anal instead of organised, but it's pretty much the same thing.' Ellen put her iPad in her tan tote – which she'd offset with an orange and gold Aboriginal designed scarf tied at one end.

‘Oh, and we're getting you fitted for bras today too,' she said, pushing her chair out from the table.

‘What?' Veronica was in shock. She couldn't move at all.

‘You've got a good rack, Vee. You need to show those girls off a bit more. You could so rock a push-up bra.'

‘I don't want my breasts to rock anything,' Veronica said, slightly offended and suddenly conscious of the underwear she was wearing.

‘Listen Vee, it's about
feeling
good about yourself. That's what we're doing this for. Nice clothes, having your hair done, feeling sexy – you don't have to do it for anyone other than yourself. If someone else appreciates the result, then that's a bonus. But today, my tidda, we are going to spend some time and a lot of Alex's money making you
feel
as beautiful as you are, inside and out.'

Ellen motioned her friend to stand and they headed towards the Lexus a few metres away.

By the end of the day Veronica's car was loaded with bags: ‘key pieces' as defined by Sorina the stylist, which included a pair of jeans, a black blazer, white wrap-around cotton shirt, white t-shirt, black lace top, three thin belts, one wide black
belt, black boots with killer heels, three push-up bras, a body suit, French knickers, and a red jersey dress. She let Ellen drive back into the city as she checked and rechecked her new, groovier hairdo; she kept running her fingers through the layers of rich browns and burgundy highlights.

‘I can hardly recognise myself,' she said smiling. ‘I love it!'

‘You look amazing, Vee. Now for the make-up and you're all done.'

‘It's fun hanging out with you. I've never really had this much fun shopping.' Veronica's shopping experiences over the years had included high-end designer stores but she had always gone by herself or had Alex pacing the floor nearby. The only other ventures were to buy school uniforms and sporting gear for her sons. A stylist, someone to help her ‘build her wardrobe and look', was not anything she had
ever
thought about.

‘I had a ball too. It's great going shopping with someone who doesn't have to look at the price tag before she tries something on. It was like being with a Hollywood star,' Ellen joked.

‘You're hilarious! And bear in mind I hardly ever go shopping, so today was about five years' worth for me. As for stardom . . .' She pulled down the sun visor and took another look in the mirror. ‘I do look good.'

The layout at Avid Reader had been transformed so the bookshop could hold seventy people. Guests were spilling
out onto the street. The book launch was only minutes from starting. Nadine was upstairs in the bathroom, breathing deeply. The novelty of doing literary events had worn off years ago, after her sixth book, but she always drew a crowd and sold more books than any other author featured in the front window display on Boundary Street. She liked the owners, and she liked supporting independent booksellers. She also liked that they served wine at their events. Sometimes she even donated a case of Mudgee's finest just to help promote her hometown.