cloud and the onshore breeze had turned into a fair wind. Nina’s teeth were chattering. They were both sleeveless. Annie walked to the end of the van, near to where she imagined Meredith’s bed must be, and put her ear to the thin aluminium wall.
‘I can’t hear anything. They’re probably unconscious from too much rooting.’
‘What’ll we do?’ whispered Nina.
‘Well, when I was a boarder at good old Girton Grammar in Bendigo, you had to leave your shoes out the front of the door if you had a boy inside your room. Can you find any?’
Nina scavenged in the shadows. ‘Just this.’ She held up a garment for inspection in the dim light from the park’s power pole. It was a thick, cream-coloured Aran-knit fisherman’s jumper.
‘OK then,’ said Annie. ‘At least you can wrap that around yourself to keep warm. We’ll give her ten more minutes . . .’
There was an urgent ‘ding’ from Nina’s handbag. She scrabbled through the debris inside and found her phone. The text message read: ‘Luv U Mum. Miss U. Cum home soon. Jordy. XXX.’
Nina’s heart melted. Her eldest, darling baby boy was thinking of her. ‘Isn’t that gorgeous?’ She allowed herself a nag-free moment of pure maternal love. ‘Although he should be in bed by now. You know, it’s the weirdest thing. I was just thinking, back there while I was talking to Zoran, that finally . . . finally, I might be the old Nina. Not “wife” or “mother” or “daughter”, just me . . . And now look! It’s like the boys have sensed I was somehow drifting away from them.’
‘Remember the Force, Luke!’ declared Annie, throwing her cigarette into a bucket under a tap where it hissed and died. ‘Remember the Force.’
The front door banged open. A hairy hulk of a man barged down the stairs, grunted, ‘Night,’ and sprinted for the car park in front of the surf club.
‘It’s a Wookie!’ cried Nina.
‘And he’s just shagged Princess Leia!’ yelled Annie. ‘After him, Han Solo!’
They moved on from Scotts Head early that morning with bruised hearts. Annie was thinking about Matty. Meredith was mooning over Bill. Nina, unusually for her, had stayed curled in her bed complaining that she wasn’t feeling too well as the camp was packed up. She drifted in and out of sleep dreaming she was protecting her three baby boys from the Attack of the Poisonous Curry Pot Noodles.
They were in for a long drive that Sunday. Angourie was Annie’s choice of destination. Her brochures raved about the legendary surf, the famous Blue Pool, the Yuraygir National Park and stunning beaches. She had to see the place and, if they stayed there for the night, it would put them within easy striking distance of Byron Bay. They could make a stately procession into town on Monday morning, in good time for the wedding the next evening.
However, they weren’t too far down the road before Nina skidded the van to a halt in the gravel at the side of the road. The fiery mackerel curry had done its work. She leapt from the driver’s seat and flew through the cabin to the toilet. A series of graphic explosions and low groans propelled Annie from her seat at the table, gagging, with her hand over her mouth.
After emptying half a can of vanilla-scented room spray in the cubicle, Nina emerged clutching her stomach. ‘Must be the chillies,’ she said weakly. ‘We don’t usually eat anything too spicy at home. The boys don’t like it. Oops! Hang on. Here I go again.’
Annie stood at the side of the road puffing at cigarettes and surveying empty paddocks while Meredith inspected the wild-flowers in a damp drain. Twenty minutes later it was plain Nina was not in a fit state to drive. She was in agony. She lay down on Meredith’s bed in the rear of the cabin, within easy reach of the bathroom.
There was no way Meredith wanted to brave the stink of the toilet, but she suddenly realised that her need was equally pressing. A stinging hot stab of pain in her bladder sent her sprinting up the stairs and into the loo. The eye-watering experience told her one thing—she had an attack of cystitis to equal Nina’s diarrhoea. A few minutes later she emerged, pale-faced and shivering. She considered saying: ‘I usually don’t have any sex at home—I don’t like it,’ but decided that might be too much information. ‘I might sit up the back here with Nina. I’m not