something she hadn’t felt for a long, long time. She looked up into his amused eyes that were deep blue tidal pools in his weathered brown face. Thick grey hair stood out in salt-stiffened tufts. Bill was his name. He smelled of the sea, and fish. Tiny translucent scales were caught in the cables of his Aran-knit jumper and Meredith fancied she’d been netted by King Neptune himself. She lurched on her white espadrilles.
‘Whoops! You right there?’ Bill threw his massive muscled forearm around Meredith’s shoulder to steady her. She could feel the heat of him through her clothes. Meredith didn’t object as his arm dropped to her waist. And stayed there.
‘But your pearl perch—it’s one of the most prized eating fish in Australia. Beautiful!’ Bill enthused, to the agreement of his mates. ‘Have you ever eaten pearl perch, Meredith?’
‘No, I don’t think I have.’
There was a murmur of disbelief and a shaking of heads at this sad confession.
‘I’ll have to take you out in the boat with me then and catch you one. Or maybe I should strip off and dive for pearls for you instead, seeing as you’re a pearl kind of girl.’
Bill reached to finger one of the pearls threaded on ribbon and as his calloused hand brushed her left breast Meredith was aware that her nipples tingled. She quickly folded her arms.
‘How long are you staying, did you say?’
‘Just till Sunday morning.’
‘Well,’ he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear again over the noisy hum of the room, ‘we haven’t got much time to get to know each other, have we?’
Annie stood on the outside deck of the club overlooking the smooth expanse of the bowling greens. The smoke from her cigarette curled under the eaves and then dissipated in the stiff breeze now blowing in from the beach.
She’d made a tour of the premises—inspected the carved wooden honour roll dedicated to ‘Those Who Served’ and the portrait of the Queen in a blue gown, a vase of kangaroo paw and wattle in evidence, and bearing the legend: NSW Women’s Bowling Association, 1989. As she wandered between tables, she had felt every eye surveying her outfit and felt more and more conspicuous. Finally, she’d taken refuge on the bench outside, ignoring the sly appraisal of the blokes in football jumpers in a huddle down one end of the concrete balcony.
She was relieved to see Nina push her way through the double glass doors. ‘I think I’ll wander back to the van. I feel a tad overdressed.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Nina said, shivering in the wind. ‘I’m really tired. I think I must have got a touch of sun today. Will I get Meredith?’
‘Nah, leave her. That big bloke is all over her. She might get lucky.’
‘She wouldn’t. Would she?’
‘I certainly hope so. She’ll find her way back. Let’s go.’
Annie and Nina walked the cyclone wire covered path alongside the greens, and back to the adjoining caravan park. They threaded their way through the dark—past open fires, hissing gas lamps, shadows on canvas—carefully stepping over tent pegs and guy ropes.
‘I was thinking about a sea change to the country or the coast,’ said Annie. ‘But God, I can’t imagine myself fitting in in a place like this! Look at me. I’m dressed like a freak. I reckon I’d hyperventilate if I couldn’t buy new shoes once a fortnight. No barista, good bread or organic market! One restaurant. One bowls club. Two conversations—football and fish. What the hell was I thinking?’
Nina could see her point, but it wasn’t the whole story. ‘This town’s tiny, but there’re lots of other places on the coast that—’
‘Forget it. It’s all too far away from Mum and Dad.’ Annie shook her head. ‘I can’t see myself going anywhere much until they’re both gone.’
‘But that could be another twenty years!’
‘Yeah. I s’pose it would have been different if Lizzie was alive—we could have shared the load. It’s weird when you think about it. All that feminist stuff we got into years ago, the independence and individuality we all banged on about, and how does it end up? Nursing your parents—making soup and beds, and rinsing undies. It mostly ends up being women’s work. And it lands on you just when you start thinking of escape.’
Nina nodded. She dreamed of escape too, although over the past few days she had come to believe that the entire concept might be overrated. Wherever you escaped to, you were still there. On this trip, she reflected