‘By the way, where are we going to stay in Sydney?’ asked Annie.
Nina hadn’t thought that far ahead, and had just assumed they’d find a park for the van . . . somewhere. Maybe overlooking Bondi Beach. She’d always wanted to go there. She wished she had the boys along for the adventure, to see the famed bronzed Aussie lifesavers and surfers.
On thinking about her brood, she checked her watch: 8.15 am. They should be getting out the door by now—if Brad wasn’t still asleep and snoring. Had he taken the bread out of the freezer last night for their lunches? Had anyone remembered to feed the dog?
All these thoughts were stressing Nina out. It was ridiculous that she was away for so long. Why was she here, exactly? ‘I’m sure there are plenty of places we can stop,’ she said, annoyed by their questions. Why did she have to plan everything for everyone all the damned time?
As it happened, Meredith had been formulating her own plans. ‘Well, if we’re going right into Sydney, I think we should ditch the van somewhere, splash out and get a hotel room. I’ll definitely be ready for a hot bath by then.’ Annie smiled into her coffee. The woman entranced with ‘roughing it’ was already dissolving in a frothy honey-scented bubble bath.
Nina snatched up her map. ‘Except that I don’t have the money for that. It would probably cost us five hundred dollars each, by the time we take taxis everywhere. If push comes to shove, we can camp in Centennial Park.’ She gathered the coffee, sugar and milk into her arms and stalked off. Meredith and Annie watched her go. They were all tetchy, struggling to warm up in the chilly morning air, like the rest of the wildlife in the bush: Annie a bristling echidna to Meredith’s imperious brolga and Nina’s blundering wombat.
Meredith shivered and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. ‘She’s crazy. She can’t be serious. Centennial Park? We can’t turn up and block out the sun in one of the most exclusive neighbourhoods in the whole of Australia. I know quite a few people living around there. I’d never live it down.’
Annie agreed. ‘What if we want to go out to some fab restaurant? Does she think we’re all going to frock up inside that thing?’ She jerked her thumb towards the van and saw that Elvis’s ebony quiff was now shining supernaturally as the first rays of sunlight hit the side of the van.
‘Maybe we should just avoid Sydney altogether. I’ve got nothing to say to that media slut, Corinne Jacobsen.’ Meredith folded her arms in disgust.
Annie clunked her empty coffee cup on the table, astonished by Meredith’s language, but even more alarmed at the thought of missing out on the oasis of shopping in the middle of their trek through the retail desert. After all, a woman was not a camel.
‘We have to stop in Sydney!’ Annie pleaded. ‘All that stuff with Corinne? I’m sure she had her reasons for what she did. Forget it. We’ve all changed since then. Look at us. Look at Jaslyn! Who would have thought a hippie like her would end up in a war zone, but there she is in bloody Afghanistan!’
Meredith remained silent.
‘Probably the only one who hasn’t changed is Nina,’ muttered Annie. ‘Not that I think she realises that.’ She turned to see Nina puffing as she wrestled the camp chairs into the locker at the rear of the van. They both watched as she swore and swung her leg back to give the chairs a mighty kick. Meredith’s eyes widened and she jumped to her feet.
‘Nina, don’t! Be careful of my—’
A muffled tinkling of broken glass signalled a thousand dollars worth of Fabergé crystal glasses coming to grief. Nina gasped, covered her face with her hands and fled into the bush.
Nine
Apart from the well-signposted crossing of the state border, there were a few more clues that the RoadMaster Royale was now motoring through New South Wales. For one, the quality of the roads immediately deteriorated. This state was bigger, and there was apparently not enough asphalt to go round.
‘The bigger the state, the lower the IQ,’ said Annie. ‘But that doesn’t explain Tasmania,’ Meredith deadpanned.
The road signs erected by the authorities had also changed. Instead of the Victorian nanny-state nags—‘Weary? A microsleep can kill you!’ and ‘Tired? Take a powernap now!’—the warnings were more sinister: ‘Police now targeting speeding’.