Roadside Sisters - By Wendy Harmer Page 0,61

either side of the lane faces appeared at sash windows. Some of them were the ladies of Double Bay—in towelling robes and hydrating face-packs, clutching the second or third gin and tonic of the evening and looking out for errant husbands—and some were nannies in peanut-butter-smeared tracksuits, clutching the fourth vodka of the evening and looking out for errant mothers. Then there was Corinne Jacobsen. She was in a black bra and panties, clutching a flute of champagne and training a pair of high-powered binoculars on the bougainvillea.

Annie jumped into the laneway and, as instructed, rang the bell on the back gate of Number Five. The intercom crackled with a voice that was suspiciously cheery.

‘Annie, darling! You’re here! Hang on—I’ll be down in a minute.’

‘She’s coming down,’ Annie announced through the driver’s side window.

‘I hope she’s bringing a jar of Vaseline. We’ll never make it through this gate.’ Nina found herself, ridiculously, breathing in, as if that would help them squeeze through the gap.

‘There’s still time to go to a hotel. You can drop me off and come back here by yourselves,’ huffed Meredith.

Ten minutes later and the RoadMaster was successfully manoeuvred between two stone gargoyles on either side of a wrought-iron gate. In another ten minutes an extension cord from the RoadMaster was running the length of a sandstone-paved courtyard and plugged into a socket in the pool cabana. Annie—juggling cake and roses—followed Corinne and was instantly swallowed by the vast glass-fronted entertaining area, which glowed like a human aquarium at the end of the garden.

Nina and Meredith had begged off to change shoes, tidy hair and apply lipstick. As Meredith exited the tiny bathroom in the van, Nina reached for her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. ‘Please, Meredith, I am begging you. Can we just get through this without any drama?’

Meredith gave a tight, dry laugh. ‘I can assure you I feel the same way you do. The sooner we’re back in here, tucked up in our beds, the better.’

As they stepped from the van onto the mosaic patio, ragged black shadows swooped through the garden emitting high-pitched shrieks. Nina jumped in fright: ‘My God! What was that?’

‘Bats! Looking for the Queen of Darkness probably.’ Meredith marched past the massive Balinese water feature towards the conflagration of dozens of blazing vanilla candles, and Nina hurried after her.

‘I can’t believe you’re here!’ Corinne lunged at Nina, clutched her upper arms with bony fingers and kissed the air beside both her ears. ‘How are you?’ She cocked her head like a bright-eyed, blinking Indian mynah bird.

Before Nina could answer, Corinne rushed at Meredith and threw her tanned, sinewy arms around her midsection. ‘And you too, Meredith. You look amazing! How long has it been?’ The immediate response that came to Meredith’s mind was not long enough, but Corinne had already moved on.

‘And Annie . . . so that’s four of us! We’ll have to have a singalong later—Jesus on the main line, tell ’im whachu wantttt—’ Corinne trilled as she turned to the travertine marble counter and splashed Perrier-Jouët champagne into two more flutes. She held them out to Nina and Meredith.

‘Oh, this is amazing! And that thing you’re travelling in on your hilarious expedition . . .’ Corinne’s mouth had formed a perfect puffed ‘O’, like a sugar-frosted Froot Loop. Meredith noted that her forehead was unmoved by the joyous occasion.

‘It’s a RoadMaster Royale,’ said Annie.

‘Five berth,’ added Meredith.

‘Four-cylinder, 2.2 litre Mercedes engine,’ Nina stated.

‘Well, here’s to you and Mr Elvis Presley—uh-huh!’ Corinne held up her glass and they all tinkled their hellos.

‘So how’s it been?’ she asked and, again, before they could answer Corinne was on to her next thought: ‘It must be such fun. Away from home, leaving all your troubles behind.’ She grimaced and downed her drink in one gulp.

Meredith saw Corinne’s hands shaking and raised her eyebrows at Annie. Is this woman on something? was the silent question.

Corinne poured herself another glass and turned to Nina, who was busy appraising the tiny size-8 figure that had been squeezed into a skimpy black-sequinned mini-dress. ‘I see in the paper that Brad’s still with the football club. How’s he coping with all this latest crazy business?’

‘Pardon?’ said Nina. ‘What “crazy business”?’

‘You haven’t heard? You really have been in the wilds, my darling! Haven’t you been reading the papers?’ Corinne rummaged through the pile of newsprint on the counter.

Nina was flustered and looked at Meredith and Annie, who both shrugged. They had no idea what Corinne

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