spa was booked out. Annie, who always arrived a day early and indulged herself in every pampering treatment on offer, would have already tipped the barman to stash a bottle of Stoli under the counter and put it on the company tab. But there was no point in thinking about any of this, she reflected. This ‘adventure’ was already past the point of no return. They’d hit base camp. No doubt there would be a lot of tricky terrain to negotiate before they saw home again.
‘Forty bucks for the night.’ Nina climbed back into the cabin. ‘A bargain, huh?’
‘If you don’t count the cost of the fuel . . .’ began Meredith.
‘There’s no use talking about cost. We’re going to have an experience money can’t buy.’ Nina waved the paper receipt. ‘Now we’re on lot 47 according to this . . . it’s down this road here. Close to the toilet block.’
‘God, I wish my mother could see me now.’ Annie leaned between the seats at Nina’s elbow. ‘That was always at the top of Mum’s agenda when we camped at Sorrento every Chrissy. “Brian, get as close as you can to the taps and the conveniences.” Jean’s a nice country lady, of course, she still can’t bring herself to say “toilets”. Little does she know I first learned about sex in that caravan park. You can see right through canvas with a good light behind it. Kama Sutra shadow puppetry.’
Soon the RoadMaster was parked on a concrete pad underneath a gum tree, plugged in and humming with electricity. A bright and cosy nesting box for three hens who’d flown the coop. They’d scored a prime position—no campers either side. The standard-issue breeze-block conveniences were a short walk away through flower beds and, at the back of the van, the manicured lawn gave way to darkened scrubby bush.
Half an hour later Nina was stuffing paper wrappings into the plastic bin in the van and cursing herself for eating most of the fatty chips. She thought about breaking her promise not to use her mobile phone again. She shouldn’t have agreed to the pact in the first place. Nina had a young family at home and they needed to hear from her. It was something the other two couldn’t really understand. In the pool of light coming from the van’s windows she could see Annie outside, now wearing a stylish pale-blue velour tracksuit and white ballet flats. She was sitting back in a canvas camp chair, on her third cigarette and nursing a champagne flute. Where does she think she is, thought Nina—St Bloody Tropez?
Nina fished for her phone, tucked it up her sleeve, stepped into the bathroom and called the home number. No answer. Then Brad and Jordy’s mobile phones. No answer again. Where were they? In the lounge room, making some point by not picking up? Or had Brad taken the boys to Wanda’s for their favourite meal of borscht with herb dumplings while her own maternal offerings sat unwanted—a pile of freezing bricks? She willed herself not to call her mother or leave any messages.
When Nina finally made her way down the van’s steps she found Annie and Meredith both leaning back and surveying the starry southern skies. Neither of them could remember the last time they’d sat in a camp chair in the dark, so maybe they were having an adventure. Nina was mugged by the beauty of the rising moon, its edges hazy with a silver corona of salt and surf thrown up by the sea. The night was warm and clear.
‘I’m trying to remember the last time I looked at the stars.’ Meredith regarded the sequinned heavens. ‘You know—really looked. Did you ever try to count the stars when you were little?’ She held out her empty glass for a refill.
Annie retrieved the bottle of champagne from the shadows. ‘There’s about a hundred billion of ’em last time anyone counted, and between 56 and 250 million bubbles in a bottle of champagne—depending on which estimate you want to believe.’
‘Someone counted champagne bubbles?’ Meredith licked the rim of her Danish crystal champagne flute etched with stalks of wheat.
‘When Dom Perignon first tasted champagne, they reckon he said: “Come quickly, I am drinking the stars.” But then, he was pissed at the time!’ Annie grinned and held up the bottle to Nina.
‘Come on, Nina, have a champers.’ Meredith produced another flute and they were all amazed to hear the fizzing of the bubbles in the quiet, even