The Spill Read online

  Nicole wanted to say something like, I think poor Donna-Louise is quite happy with her huge settlement and her ultra-white house in Busselton. Instead, she said, ‘Dad and Donna-Louise divorced almost two years ago. Dad’s allowed to move on, isn’t he?’

  Samantha raised an eyebrow and then glanced at the menu, leaving Nicole to shift uncomfortably in her seat. ‘What do you think about the whole church wedding thing?’ she asked.

  ‘I had a church wedding,’ Samantha snapped. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  From the pan into the flames, Nicole thought. This conversation was not going well. ‘I’m not saying there is. I was just a bit surprised, that’s all. Dad has always said he’s an atheist.’

  ‘Maybe he’s doing it to make Celine happy.’ Samantha shrugged. ‘Anyway, he said you have a new job.’

  The change of subject was welcome. Any further talk about Craig’s wives, ex- and imminent, would only lead them into even more treacherous waters.

  ‘Yeah, I’m doing data entry for this big company. They courier me boxes of files and I work my own hours in my pyjamas,’ Nicole explained. ‘It means I can keep on top of my demanding TV schedule.’

  ‘Ah, right,’ Samantha said. ‘What are you watching these days?’

  Nicole reeled off a list of shows, leaving off a few of the trashier reality TV ones.

  ‘And any men on the scene?’

  ‘No. It’s just me and the TV,’ Nicole said, trying to keep the tone light. Five years after Darren had finally broken up with her for good, she was still in recovery. He’d left her when she’d really needed him and she couldn’t imagine trusting anyone again. Not that she’d ever really trusted Darren.

  ‘How’s Trent?’ Nicole asked. If she hadn’t seen Samantha in a long time, it had been even longer since she’d seen Trent. She actually missed him.

  ‘Good,’ Samantha replied. ‘He’s been offered a tech support job up in Newman, one of those fly-in-fly-out things for ridiculous amounts of money.’

  ‘Is he going to take it?’

  Samantha gave a little shrug. ‘We’re talking about it. Six weeks feels like a long time for him to be away.’

  Nicole couldn’t imagine Samantha surviving six weeks without Trent. They’d been joined at the hip for so long now, it was hard to think of one without the other. She wondered if she would ever have a relationship as solid as theirs.

  She turned her attention to the menu and baulked. ‘Why is everything so expensive?’ Her electricity bill was due any day now and she’d already maxed her credit card. ‘I got charged $8 for a latte the other day.’

  ‘That’s Boomtown for you. This is my shout.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘But I want to.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Nicole said, grateful and embarrassed. But mostly grateful.

  ‘Here they are! My bridies!’ Celine exclaimed, throwing her arms out to embrace Nicole and Samantha as they entered the bridal shop.

  While the dressmaker started measuring Samantha, Celine handed Nicole a glass of champagne and a sheet of paper.

  ‘I’ve printed this schedule for the wedding day so you know when and where to go for make-up and hair.’ She paused to give Nicole a coy look. ‘We need you to look nice! There’s a certain someone I’ve invited to the wedding who I think you’re really going to like.’

  ‘I’ve heard that line before,’ Nicole said, giving Samantha a pointed look, but typically, Samantha ignored it. These days, Samantha didn’t like to take credit for having match-made Nicole and Darren at her own wedding. Her revisionist version of history placed the blame squarely on Trent’s shoulders.

  ‘This one is a real keeper. He’s an Anderson. You know, of the Anderson Andersons?’ Nicole didn’t know. ‘He’s the CEO of this social enterprise venture that trains baristas in remote communities. Craig knows him through his networks and he’s letting us use his Rolls Royce as the bridal car. Of course, when he offered that, we had to invite him. And then I found out he was single!’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  Celine lowered her voice and leant forward. ‘Rumour has it that his wife left him for the pool boy but still managed to get half his money in the settlement.’

  Nicole hadn’t had a boyfriend for almost five years, but some half-rich loser with a caffeine addiction and a broken heart didn’t exactly sound like a good candidate. But she put on a bright smile and nodded. ‘He sounds great. I can’t wait to meet him.’

  On the day of the wedding, Nicole dragged herself out of her bed and made it to her 9 am make-up call at the beauty parlour only half an hour late. Samantha was already there, her hair in curlers. Rosie, her hair already done, was sitting in the corner playing on her ever-present Nintendo DS, her bridesmaid dress hung up on the wall beside her. Nicole couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Rosie unattached to a device. If it wasn’t the DS, it was the television or the iPod or the computer, or she was playing Snake on Trent’s phone.

  ‘Where’s Celine?’ Nicole asked Samantha.

  ‘In the back room. She’s been here since 6am. Françoise and F’nelle are doing some serious things to her hair.’

  ‘Françoise and who?’

  ‘F’nelle! F-apostrophe-N-E-double-L-E!’ said a woman, dressed entirely in purple, as she emerged from the back room. ‘You must be Nicole! I’m F’nelle and I’m getting you ready for the ball, Cinders!’

  She guided Nicole to a chair and then took her face in her hands. She considered it for a long time.

  ‘Yes. Yes. Yes,’ she said, and then, ‘Yes.’

  Nicole shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ F’nelle repeated and then let go of Nicole’s face. ‘Let’s get started! Françoise? I think we’re going to use a mid-autumn palette with a number three foundation with this one.’

  A small, orange-tinted woman, presumably Françoise, emerged from the back room. She, too, held Nicole’s face in her hands.

  ‘Yessss,’ she said, after a moment, in a heavy accent. ‘What moisturiser do you use? You have za skin of, how you say, a zombi.’

  Nicole sighed. ‘It’s the same word in English. Zombie.’

  Hours – maybe years – later, she was finally ready, her hair curled and set with some kind of superglue and her pores struggling for air under all that contouring, foundation and powder. She felt even less like herself than she had when Samantha had dressed her up like Cindy Crawford at her twenty-first.

  ‘There,’ F’nelle said, admiring her handiwork. ‘We’ve sure made those features of yours work a little harder for you. Particularly your eyes. We’ve got those baby blues popping!’

  ‘Not sure how I feel about using the word “popping” when it comes to eyeballs,’ Nicole whispered to Rosie when F’nelle disappeared into the back room at the mysterious Françoise’s bidding.

  ‘Don’t worry, Aunty Nic. Your eyeballs are still in your head,’ Rosie whispered back, looking up briefly from her DS. ‘You look really pretty. Aunty Celine says you’re going to meet your new boyfriend today.’

  ‘Did she now?’ Nicole turned to Samantha and mouthed the question ‘Aunty Celine?’ but Samantha just shrugged. As Celine was younger than both of them, Nicole guessed it wouldn’t do anyone any good for Rosemary to call her ‘Nanna’.

  F’nelle re-emerged from the back room.

  ‘Did someone say Celine?’ she said, dramatically, before stepping back for Celine’s big entrance in her long satin dress. Her hair was a geyser of ringlets. Françoise followed, fussing with the train of the dress.

  ‘Ta da!’ Celine said.

  ‘Aunty Celine, you look like a princess!’ Rosemary said, jumping up and rushing forward to hug her.

  ‘Careful of Aunty Celine’s dress, Rose,’ Samantha warned, but Celine didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Thank you, darling girl,’ Celine said, hugging Rosemary back. ‘Now where’s your little princess dress? The car is leaving here in ten minutes.’

 
Samantha looked up at the clock on the wall and frowned. ‘But it’s not even eleven. The schedule said the car would be here at eleven-thirty.’

  ‘Oh, that clock’s wrong,’ said F’nelle. ‘We set it half an hour slow on purpose to stop people from getting too nervous. It’s all part of our process.’

  ‘What about people who are only nervous about being on time?’ Samantha wanted to know. ‘Have you considered them in your process?’

  ‘Um, I’ll wait outside,’ Nicole said, eager to get away from the fight.

  Carefully gathering a handful of her pink organza skirt, she stepped out onto the street.

  An enormous white car was parked directly outside, with a driver in a black suit standing stiffly by the back passenger door. The driver smiled when he saw her.

  ‘Are you part of the wedding party?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m off to play a spot of tennis,’ she replied, and the driver laughed.

  ‘I should have known from the shoes,’ he said. ‘You can always tell a tennis pro from their shoes.’

  ‘These are the highest heels I’ve ever worn,’ Nicole admitted.

  Samantha had argued long and hard with Celine about the folly of putting a tall woman in such tall shoes, but Celine had insisted that Nicole should ‘celebrate her height’.

  ‘I can see all the way to Rottnest Island from up here. Well, I could, if I wasn’t wearing these false eyelashes. Every time I blink, I think I’m being attacked by a large black insect.’

  The driver laughed again. He was the best audience she’d had in years. He was also good-looking, in a quiet ‘your friendly accountant’ kind of way, with undertones of George Clooney. The fact she was getting his attention, even for a moment, made her a little giddy. She quickly turned her focus to the car he was driving. ‘So this is the Rolls Celine’s been banging on about. Why on earth would anyone own such a monstrously large thing? Looks like someone’s got penis issues.’

  ‘Not into cars, then?’

  ‘Not really. My small pile of shit probably cost a fraction of this one and it still gets me from A to B.’

  ‘I totally agree.’

  ‘But you drive it for a living.’

  ‘I actually don’t drive it for a living. I, um, own it.’

  ‘You own it?’ Nicole blinked hard.

  ‘Well, I inherited it. I’d never buy a car like this.’

  Nicole was mortified. This was the guy Celine had been talking about. One of the Anderson Andersons, whatever that meant.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her cheeks growing hotter than the sun. ‘Sorry, your car really is very nice. I was just . . .’

  ‘Being honest? I don’t get a lot of people being honest around me, so it’s very welcome,’ he reassured her. ‘I’d love to get rid of it but my mother would kill me. It was her father’s, and once a year I take her out for her birthday in it. The gears are shot and it takes a certain touch. Thus, I’m your driver today. Jethro Anderson, at your service.’

  He took a little bow and her heart skipped a couple of beats. Oh god, she thought. I’m in trouble.

  ‘I’m Nicole Cooper.’

  ‘You’re one of Craig’s daughters, right? We’ve been doing business for years and he always talks glowingly about his girls.’

  Nicole couldn’t imagine what her father could say about her that could be glowing. My daughter works at home in her pyjamas and once binge-watched the entire first season of Lost in one long weekend.

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ Nicole put on her best smile and held out her hand to shake his. His hand felt soft and warm.

  ‘It’s really nice to meet you too, Nicole.’

  There was something nice about the way he said her name, like it was a delicate and beautiful object he was holding very carefully.

  ‘Oh! You’ve met Jethro already! Isn’t he just the darlingest thing?’ Celine said, as she stepped out of the parlour and onto the street, with Françoise and F’nelle fluttering around her and Samantha and Rosemary trailing behind. Rosemary was still glued to her DS.

  Jethro seemed embarrassed, like a little boy being made to perform in front of his parents’ friends.

  ‘Here comes the bride!’ Nicole exclaimed, to take the pressure off Jethro. ‘You look magnificent.’

  ‘Six hours in hair and make-up, you’d sure hope I look magnificent.’ Celine laughed.

  Jethro opened the back door of the car. ‘Your carriage awaits,’ he said.

  ‘Samantha and Rose, you come in the back with me. Nicole, you go in the front, next to Jethro,’ Celine said, with a wink that Nicole hoped Jethro didn’t see.

  ‘Where’s your dad?’ Samantha asked. ‘Isn’t he supposed to travel with us to the church?’

  ‘He’s meeting us there with the rest of the guests,’ Celine said. ‘I’m my own woman. I’m giving myself away.’

  Nicole had to admire Celine in that moment.

  F’nelle stepped forward to take charge. ‘Small princess, you in first,’ she said. Rosemary went to climb into the car, but Samantha stopped her.

  ‘Rose, I thought I told you to put the DS away.’

  ‘Why? I want to play it in the car.’ Rosemary scowled. Nicole could see Samantha stiffen.

  ‘Oh, come on, small princess,’ Celine said. ‘You’ll need your hands free so we can wave at all our royal subjects!’

  Rosemary’s scowl immediately disappeared. ‘Okay!’ she said beaming, as she handed over the DS to Samantha without looking at her.

  Nicole glanced sympathetically at her sister, but she had turned away to pack the DS in the small backpack she was holding. She seemed to be having trouble with the zip.

  ‘Let me help you with that,’ Jethro said, extending his hand towards her.

  ‘I can do it myself,’ Samantha snapped and Jethro stepped back, surprised.

  Once F’nelle had finally stopped fussing with the skirt of Celine’s dress in the back of the car and everyone was in place, Jethro started the engine and, with a crunch of metal, got the car into gear.

  ‘I told you it took a certain touch,’ he said to Nicole.

  ‘We’ll follow behind,’ said F’nelle through the window.

  ‘They’re coming to the church?’ Nicole asked, surprised.

  ‘So they can touch up our make-up after the service and during the reception,’ Celine said. ‘Perfection like this requires upkeep!’

  Nicole let out a little groan. Jethro shot her a quick glance before he started to pull out into the traffic.

  ‘I’ve got a tennis racquet in the boot to ward off those black insects,’ he said in a low voice and Nicole smiled at him, both grateful and wary at the same time.

  Piece #8: 1990

  Samantha hadn’t really wanted to go to Rottnest Island after the TAE. She knew that her way of celebrating the end of exams was markedly different from all the other Year Twelve students. However, Kerstin had promised her that the week wouldn’t be all about drinking.

  ‘We can ride to the West End and look out for whales and seals,’ she’d said. ‘I’ll even play Scrabble with you!’

  On their first night, Samantha slipped on her Snoopy pyjamas and put the kettle on. She was looking forward to the bike ride the next morning.

  Kerstin’s cousin, Christine, who had gone to another school, was outraged when she saw Samantha. ‘What! You’re not coming to the pub?’

  ‘I don’t drink,’ Samantha explained.

  Christine shook her head in disbelief. ‘Why the fuck not?’

  ‘She just doesn’t,’ Kerstin said, as she stepped out of the bathroom. Samantha was dismayed to see her all dressed up, ready to go out with the others to the Quokka Arms.

  ‘I thought you were going to stay here with me,’ she whispered to Kerstin as the others started to head out the door. ‘You said!’

  ‘I know, I know, but it’s our first night,’ Kerstin said, without quite looking at her as she walked out the door in a cloud of cheap perfume and hair gel. ‘I’ll stay back with you tomorro
w, I promise!’

  ‘And our bike ride?’ Samantha called after her. ‘Don’t forget our bike ride!’

  Kerstin didn’t respond.

  Samantha stood with her disappointment in the empty chalet for a few moments and then set to work. She spent the next half-hour picking up wet towels and washing cereal-encrusted bowls. Life with Donna-Louise had made it impossible to relax in a messy room.

  ‘There. That’s better,’ she said to no one at all, when the room was tidy. She picked up her copy of Circle of Friends and took it with her to bed where she read until she fell asleep.

  She was woken hours later by the other girls returning home.

  ‘Sshhh,’ Kerstin was saying, in a sandpaper whisper.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Samantha.’

  ‘Why do you care about that frigid bitch?’ Samantha was pretty certain that was Christine, the cousin. She was using her outdoor voice.

  ‘You’re right.’ Kerstin giggled. ‘She’s pretty uptight.’

  Samantha pulled her sleeping bag up around her ears and did her best not to listen to any more of their conversation.

  The next morning, she woke early and, as the other girls softly snored, she thought of what she’d heard in the night. Christine’s words had hurt a little, but Kerstin’s had landed a punch right in her guts. She knew Kerstin had been drunk, but in her limited experience, alcohol had a way of pushing the truth out. Did Kerstin really think she was uptight? They’d been best friends since Year Seven and Samantha had assumed Kerstin accepted her quirks just as she accepted Kerstin’s, but maybe Kerstin had just been tolerating them all this time.

  She looked over at Kerstin, shrouded in her sleeping bag, and wondered if she should wake her. The two of them could leave all the others behind and ride off to the West End for the day, like Kerstin had promised. But what if Kerstin was too hungover to go and complained about being woken up? Then she’d be even more of a frigid bitch in everyone’s eyes.

  She decided to take a walk along Thomson Bay to the bakery. Buying fresh bread for everyone could be the gesture of goodwill that would prove she was all right after all. But when the others finally got up around noon, they just scoffed down the bread without any thanks and then complained about Samantha having moved their towels.