her breath. She didn’t have anything more to offer right now. She could hardly say to Annie: If you don’t come I might be tempted to drive myself off a cliff, and it will be your fault.
‘OK, deal,’ said Annie. ‘But don’t get your hopes up, that’s all.’
Nina replaced the phone and bent for the laundry basket. Two dozen Under-14s football jumpers and shorts to be washed, dried and folded. And there was another fetid pile of Under-16s sports gear in the back seat of the Honda Odyssey. Nina reflected that it was an ironic name for her car.
‘Od.ys.sey n: A long series of travels and adventures.’ Jordy had Googled it the day they brought the seven-seater home. The only long travels she’d taken in that vehicle had been from the house to school, from school to the supermarket, from the supermarket to the house, from the house to the football oval and back to the house. A daily round-trip of tedium.
As for adventures . . . ? The last ‘adventure’ she could recall was taking her mother, Wanda, to the Brand Smart Factory Outlet in Nunawading. Nina had sideswiped a green Barina in the car park and driven off without leaving a note. For a few kilometres there, she had been tailed by a police car down the Eastern Freeway. The thought that the ding in the Barina might be the first fateful act in an escalating odyssey of mayhem and murder stretching across three states was oddly thrilling and Nina’s sweating palms had slipped on the wheel. When she saw the cops peel off at the next exit—despite the pair of huge discount flesh-coloured control briefs Wanda was holding up for her inspection, blocking most of her view of the side mirror—Nina was both relieved and disappointed. It was hardly what you’d call a Thelma and Louise moment.
Recalling this episode as she listened to the domesticated waterfall filling the washing machine, she had a vision of herself and Wanda sailing into the void. And as the car somersaulted, end over end until it crashed and exploded in flames at the bottom of the chasm, it was trailed by a spectacular flight of black-and-gold sleeveless polyester-mix football jumpers and massive undies with super-absorbent gussets.
With the first load of washing on, Nina made herself a cup of tea, slapped a chunk of Coon cheese on a Salada biscuit and thought about ringing Meredith. She considered this for a while, fearing that if Meredith knew Annie was having second thoughts she might bail out too. But then . . . if she made a pre-emptive strike?
This sort of strategic thinking was second nature to Nina. She had, after all, spent fifteen years pleading with, persuading, cajoling and threatening her husband and sons to comply with her directions. And if those tactics didn’t work, there was always the trio of last resort—flattery, bribery and/or tears. In the end she risked making the call. There were too many details to finalise—including whether she would need a new outfit for the wedding. Finding anything in a size 18 that looked halfway decent on her would take some serious effort.
As it turned out, Nina’s fears were well-founded. ‘I know I said I’d come, Nina, but I’m flat-out here at the store. If I go away now there will be any number of my ladies utterly furious that I’m off for two weeks at the end of April, and I can’t leave it to Caroline to run everything, she’s not up to it. That comes to $350.80—shall I put it on credit?’
‘Pardon?’ said Nina.
‘Would you sign here, please? That’s lovely, thanks so much. I’ll call you when that silverware comes in . . . Bye-bye now.’
‘Hello? . . . Meredith, can you hear me?’
‘My regulars will be considering themes for winter and eyeing off the pear and apple needlepoint cushions through the front window. And where will I be? Lost somewhere in the back of beyond! They’ll kick their Shar-Pei puppies in sheer frustration all the way down High Street. And, truly, who could blame them?’
Nina glanced out her kitchen window to next-door’s lemon tree, as if she needed reassurance that she was actually on the same planet as Meredith. ‘Really?’ she marvelled. ‘There are women who actually change their cushions according to the seasons?’
‘Oh, don’t be daft, Nina, of course there are!’
Nina walked to her lounge room and surveyed the ten-dollar cushions she’d bought years ago from Home Depot. Dark brown corduroy, so they didn’t