Tiddas (31 page)

The guest room had been converted into a studio of sorts but most of Vee's time recently had been looking at properties to live in and artist's studios to rent. Her decision to move had given her a sense of purpose she hadn't felt for a long time, and the only person she had to please right now was herself. She was aware of the clarity and empowerment a new home in a new location would provide, and could now believe that a fulfilling future lay ahead.

She headed back down to the kitchen and slumped against the fridge, staring at the copper rangehood above the stove that everyone in the family hit their head on at least once a year. She laughed out loud remembering the cursing that used to follow. She ran her hand along the teak dining table she'd had shipped back from Indonesia because she'd fallen in love with it at first sight, surprised that Alex had automatically agreed to the purchase. She never knew if it was because he wanted to make her happy, because he too loved the table, or whether he just didn't care. It was one of the few pieces of furniture Veronica had decided she would take with her when she moved. She wouldn't be taking the marital bed, the lounges or any of the artworks and antiques that Alex had bought at auction. She would sell or donate them or just give the whole lot away. Veronica had already created a new mental space for herself; now she was in the process of creating a more harmonious physical space for herself too. Her new home, the first that would be truly hers alone, would reflect her new path in life as an independent woman, an artist and a mature-aged student.

Butch walked into the house and lay at her feet as if knowing what his owner was planning. Dog may be man's best friend, but in Veronica's house it was woman's most loyal companion. She would miss him terribly.

‘Oh dear boy, I do love you, but I need a smaller place, and you're too big.' She bent down to rub the ageing canine's belly. ‘Daddy loves you too, though, and you'll be fine.' The dog closed his eyes, lapping up the attention. Even though Veronica was as attached as ever to Butch, she was already feeling the relief of having fewer responsibilities. Alex had agreed to take the dog now that Veronica was going to be moving into an apartment. Her relationship with Alex, although strained and volatile for the past eighteen months, was also taking a turn for the positive, and Butch had proven to be a useful olive branch in terms of civil communication. She sat on the ground, stroking her beloved pet's head. She talked to Butch as if she was handing over ‘custody': ‘What if I'm too tired at the end of the day and don't feel like a walk? What if my classmates want to go out for dinner or drinks to discuss art theory? I can't not go, can I? I need to be part of the cohort properly, right?' Such scenarios might soon be realities for her, and rather than shirking her responsibilities to the animal, on the contrary, she saw giving Butch to Alex as a responsible act.

The promise of personal freedom was driving Veronica's enthusiasm to get packed up and settled as soon as possible. She had worried less about her sons when each of them moved out because she never knew what they got up to. Not waiting for John to come in the door at all hours meant her anxiety about him would also decrease.

Apart from studying, Vee also wanted to travel now that she had time, the cash thanks to the settlement, and no-one relying on her 24/7. She wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and the Colosseum for real, not just on café posters. She wanted to stroll alongside the Seine and the Champs-Élysées and eat out in nice restaurants. She dreamed of going to Rome and visiting the Vatican. She'd read so many novels, memoirs and travel articles set in exotic places and now she was finally allowing the travel bug to infect her.

She looked into Butch's chocolate brown eyes and felt a tinge of guilt. ‘Come on, then!'

She got up and walked towards the laundry where the dog lead hung by the back door. ‘I will miss our walks, old fella. Truly I will. But it's
my
time, okay?'

Butch dragged Veronica along Arkana Street towards Chaprowe Road. She laughed like a young girl, enjoying her new free spirit, augmented by the endless energy of her German shepherd. As they approached St Peter Chanel Primary School a scrub turkey rushed back into the schoolyard. Veronica heard laughter across the road and turned to see the two Murri sisters smiling widely. They waved to her as they crossed the road.

‘Hi,' one of the sisters said, ‘gorgeous day for a walk.'

‘Stunning,' Veronica answered, pulling Butch back on the leash.

‘Been meaning to yarn with you for a long time,' the other sister said, adjusting her sun visor. ‘If you ever want company on a walk, you should let us know. We're walking the same way anyways.'

Veronica couldn't believe that the opportunity to meet had finally presented itself just as she was about to move. In the meantime though, she would enjoy the company of her two new friends.

‘It sure is a gorgeous day,' Veronica replied.

‘You're leaving The Gap, it's definite then?' Xanthe asked as she picked up one of Veronica's signature white and dark chocolate muffins. ‘But you love it here.'

‘I
do
love it here.' Veronica looked at the light coming through the northern window. ‘But this place is my past now.' She took a sip from the bone china cup she would soon donate to the local Vinnies. ‘And
this
place,' she handed over a real estate agent's catalogue opened at page five, ‘is my future.'

‘Wow, you found somewhere? That's amazing,' Ellen said, ‘and you'll be able to get the ferry to Kangaroo Point to see me. We can do the Jazz Club on Sundays,' she added, excited about having her dear friend living so close.

‘But this house is full of memories.' Xanthe, always the romantic, believed every tangible item held a memory, a story to be passed on, treasured or privately remembered.

‘Those memories are in my heart and my head.' Veronica was becoming far less dependent on ‘things'. ‘I will carry them with me always, but I don't need to literally
carry
them with me.'

Some already-packed boxes of books were waiting to be collected by a women's housing network. She was pleased some of the family's favourite picture books, and many of the novels she'd read over the years, would be appreciated by other women and kids somewhere not too far away.

‘It's too big here now anyway. Five bedrooms and two floors for two people and a dog is just embarrassing.' Veronica had often felt guilty about the privileged life she led in comparison to so many others. ‘I want to simplify. I
need
to simplify.' She looked at the cluttered wall units in the lounge room and the marks on the walls where paintings had come down. ‘I want stark white walls with artwork
I
love. New artwork.'

‘Maybe some of your
own
artwork?' Xanthe suggested, reaching for her second muffin.

‘Maybe.' Veronica smiled, quietly hoping that one day she would be confident enough to hang some of her own pieces in her new home. ‘But is that something you do? I mean, as an artist? Wouldn't it be like a singer-songwriter listening to their own music every day?'

‘I don't think it's the same. Anyway, do what
you
want, Vee. Paint your pictures, paint your walls, whatever you want.' Ellen picked up a black glass Art Deco vase. She looked at the barely-there sticker on the base: ‘Made in Bohemia circa: 1930'. It was so old it was made in a part of the world once known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire, now part of the Czech Republic.

‘You can have it,' Veronica said, as if she were talking about a $10 vase from IKEA.

‘What? No, I can't, it's too much,' Ellen said.

‘Isn't that the piece you bought at the silent auction for Kids MS a few years ago?' Izzy said, recalling the fundraiser they'd all gone to. ‘It's a Karl Palda, isn't it? Worth a bomb.'

Veronica had no attachment to the piece at all. ‘It's yours, Ellen. The money went to charity, it was a donation. Really, it's not something I want to take with me.'

‘It
would
look good in Kangaroo Point, wouldn't it?' Ellen looked to Xanthe and Izzy for approval, feeling guilty now she had a sense of the vase's value.

Veronica walked over to Ellen and hugged her. ‘I'm becoming a new me because of you. I want you to have it. Consider it a symbol of the turning point in my life, thanks to you.'

Ellen became so choked up she couldn't speak and was reminded that Nadine wasn't there; she would've commented about her lack of words for sure.

Veronica picked up a milky white glass table lamp. ‘This would look fabulous in your lounge room, Xanthe. I know you like things to match. Do you think it will?'

Xanthe gasped. ‘Are you kidding? I can make Murano match with anything, even with all those nickel-plated details.' Xanthe knew the Italian piece was circa 1960 and would cost a fortune to buy, but she also knew that no-one would appreciate the lamp more than she.

‘And Izzy, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this would fit perfectly in your place, in the corner near your dining table. No?' Veronica ran her hands down the length of a colossal standard lamp made out of wrought iron and with a red shade. ‘It was designed by E. Brandt and made in France around 1925, I believe.'

Veronica was surprised by her ability to recall the details of all the various pieces she and Alex had bought over the years. And she was also surprised that she was finding it so easy to let go of them without any sadness.

‘That is so . . .' Now Izzy was at a loss for words, just like Ellen had been.

‘I'm sure the papers that came with it said that it was once owned by the Lesieur family, the biggest vegetable oil supplier in France.'

‘Fuck me dead,' Izzy said. ‘Sorry for swearing, but Vee I never knew you had all this amazing stuff. I mean, I've seen it, but never really taken any notice. You're a bloody art collector!'

‘That may be, but the truth is I'd rather be an artist!' Veronica was determined that her past was going to remain in her past. She walked across the room to three huge boxes filled with bubble wrap. ‘Take what you want,' she said, ‘I'm going to sell or donate most things. And I'm selling the Lexus to pay for whatever new things I need. I don't need a bloody car that size or that expensive. I'm getting one of those environmental cars.'

‘God, I would've traded the convertible with you,' Izzy joked. Asher had already swapped both their cars for a station wagon and ordered a baby capsule. ‘But it's okay. I've promised myself a Lexus for my sixtieth. The bub will be going on twenty by then, so like you I'll be getting my life back!'

Nadine was still missing, and being missed, but the tiddas were always going to celebrate Riverfire at Ellen's, which boasted the best view over the river. Kicking off the city's Riverfestival, the choreographed display of fireworks was a pyrotechnician's dream. With three of the bridges close to South Bank being used as platforms for the displays, it was one night many locals were keen to enjoy. The September heat had already kicked in by week three and tens of thousands of Brisbanites would make their way to the old Expo site.

‘This is so much better than having to deal with the crowds,' Veronica said, already looking forward to living closer to the city.

‘Crowds
everywhere
,' Izzy said. ‘I just don't have the patience to be around people and be this bloody uncomfortable.' She thought back to the blood tests she'd had the day before to check for diabetes and pregnancy anaemia. ‘And in
my
condition, I really want to use private toilets.' Izzy wriggled in her seat. ‘Apart from anything else, I just feel fat. I've gained eleven kilos, can you believe that? This kid is going to be huge; my vag is never going to be the same.'

‘Have you thought about the birth much?' Xanthe asked.

‘Absolutely, I can't stop thinking about it. I have no pain threshold at all. I want all the drugs they can give me.' Izzy was dead serious.