the front gate and you’ve already caused three hundred bucks worth of damage. God knows what you’ll manage in two weeks!’
‘Don’t talk to me like that! It’s just a mistake.’
‘It’s the six P’s, Nina. It’s what I tell the boys at training: “Perfect Practice Prevents Piss Poor Performance.” You should know better.’
Nina scrambled back into the cabin, slammed the door after her and shouted out the window: ‘Jam your six P’s up your arse, Brad! If I’ve broken the TV aerial, I’ll fix it. Like I’ve fixed everything else in the house for years!’
She wrenched the monster motorhome into drive and accelerated. She remembered to release the handbrake. Too late. She clipped the letterbox and hit the bluestone guttering at speed. In the passenger seat Meredith grabbed at the door handle to stop her head from banging into the window. In the back Annie’s champagne bottle was flung from the table into the stairwell, its contents gurgling down the steps, under the door and out onto the roadway.
Nina paused for a final word to her husband, standing red-faced by the front gate: ‘GO THE MIGHTY BOMBERS!’ she screamed, and shook her fist out the window.
The RoadMaster Royale roared up the street, the TV aerial beating time on the roof like a demented metronome. With an echoing, rebellious ‘Up yours!’ blast on the horn, Nina swerved around the corner into the next street and the King of the Road was gone from view.
The RoadMaster Royale was headed for Lakes Entrance on the south-east coast of Victoria, 319 kilometres from Melbourne. Meredith had estimated the drive would take four hours and they should arrive in time to see a glorious autumn sunset from the famous Ninety Mile Beach, although by now her schedule wasn’t worth the organic hand-made paper Meredith had written it on.
Their first stop was unscheduled, only 500 metres away, at the café around the corner where Nina pulled over to fix the infernal banging of the TV aerial. After she’d managed to wind it down and wrestle the mangled vent closed, it was takeaway cappuccinos all round over the table in the back of the van.
‘This is bizarre!’ said Annie, amazed, as she peeled the top off her hot coffee and peeked through the curtains she’d parted a tiny bit. ‘Here we are in our cosy little house on wheels, sitting up at the table. We’ve got beds and a bathroom, and there are people walking by down the street outside.’
Meredith leaned across the table and pulled the curtains firmly shut. ‘For goodness sake! We might see someone we know.’
Annie hooked one side of the curtains back and sneaked another look. ‘So what? This is hilarious. Hi!’ She knocked on the window, and waved to a startled pensioner leaving the butcher’s shop.
Meredith yanked the curtains closed again. ‘Don’t! They’ll think we’re a bunch of . . . what do they call them? “Grey Nomads”! Three retirees with dead husbands, who’ve all gone lesbian.’
‘You are mad, Meredith, honestly.’ Annie shook her head and slurped at her coffee. ‘And that reminds me, I bags the top bed over the cabin. Which, of course, you’re welcome to share, girls,’ she added with a grin.
‘That’s not funny, Annie! We’ve got three decent-sized beds—’
‘Two queens and a large single,’ Nina corrected. She spoke quietly, head down. She was fighting her way out of a purple haze of anger and regret. She and Brad had parted on such a discordant note. A ‘ding’ on her mobile phone signalled she had a message. There was probably an ad-break in the football. She was determined not to speak to him until tomorrow morning.
‘I thought we agreed,’ Annie reminded her. ‘Mobile phones off, unless it’s for an emergency.’ She was already feeling oddly disconnected from the world without the insistent ring of the ‘crackberry’. Like she’d dropped her dog off at the kennel. ‘If I can do it, so can everyone else.’
Nina and Meredith duly produced their phones. ‘One, two, three—off,’ directed Annie. A vow of silence was made. They were on their own now . . . with each other.
‘So, we should draw straws on the beds,’ commanded Meredith, ‘although I’d prefer the one down the back. If I had to get out of that top bed in the middle of the night, I’d fall down the ladder. I haven’t slept in a top bunk since Girl Guides camp. Nina?’ Nina was still brooding over her coffee.
‘Come on, darls, cheer up.’ Annie threw an arm around her