Christmas in Canberra Read online

  Mary sighed, realizing her error. “No, thanks. I was just going out to do some gardening.”

  “Right,” said Louise, stifling her annoyance as she took note of her mother’s white linen slack suit and newly painted nails. “I’ll get going, then.”

  “Alright then, bye,” said Mary, more cheerful now.

  “So,” said Louise, as she retraced her steps out the front door, “will you be okay to bring the nuts and lollies to Jane’s for Christmas dinner?”

  “Yes,” Mary said, rather testily, Louise thought. “We got our copy of the roster, don’t worry.”

  Louise stopped and looked at her mother in surprise. “Oh, right,” Louise turned and walked towards her car. “See you later, then.”

  Mary walked back into the house to avoid having to wave.

  *

  “Jeez!” Louise exclaimed as she took the mug of coffee Marie handed her. “That is the last time I drop in on her!”

  Marie laughed. “You always say that,” she scoffed. “So, what’s her problem this time?” As she spoke, Marie examined her reflection in the large, ornate mirror which hung on the wall opposite a deep bay window. The mirror reflected her view of mature silver birch trees which were almost level with the second floor unit. Sunlight dappled through the flickering leaves as they were stirred by the light breeze. Marie twisted her thick, wavy black hair around her hand and assessed the result with her head to one side.

  “You’re gorgeous, so drag yourself away from the mirror and come and sit down.” Louise patted the seat beside her on the sofa as she spoke. “I don’t think Mum is too keen on the roster, actually.”

  “Oh, the roster! Yes, you really got them going with that little document, didn’t you?” Marie dropped her tresses and sat down beside her sister.

  “I don’t see why everyone is so bent out of shape about it. Especially Mum! I only put it together so that she and Jane wouldn’t get stuck with all the work. Why is Mum so upset?”

  “Dad is ticked off by the roster, so therefore Mum gets to be mad at you, too.”

  “She needs a reason? She has been weird to me ever since I didn’t marry Stuart – and that was 8 years ago now.”

  “Is that when you stopped being the Golden Girl?” Marie was interested. “I wondered when it all began. I thought it was a “Roxanne” thing.”

  Roxanne was Michael’s wife. She had never cared for any of Michael’s sisters, but she was very popular with Jim and Mary.

  “No – it’s just that Roxanne arrived on the scene at the same time as Stuart and I broke up. Your timing is correct, though.”

  “Oh, I get it now. Well, I’m not married – how come she can’t stand me, too?”

  “Because even though you are 20, the same age I was when Stuart and I broke up, she thinks you’re too young to get married!”

  “I see.” Marie sipped her coffee. “So, if I stay single till I am 28 like you, Mum will be permanently peed off with me, too?”

  “Probably not,” admitted Louise. “You are the baby of the family.”

  “So?”

  “So, you could be 50 and you will always be the baby of the family. It’s not fair, but it is just one of those things.”

  “Sorry,” Marie smiled smugly at Louise.

  “Gee – you don’t look sorry!”

  “I’m not!” The girls laughed at each other. Marie tried to put on a cherubic face while fluttering her quite substantial eyelashes, and Louise rolled her eyes, shook her head and groaned.

  “Besides,” Louise added, “ with the amount of make-up you wear – no one will ever be able to tell how old you are.”

  “You’re just jealous because I’ll always be the baby.”

  “No – seriously – when you were 16 you looked 24 and when you are 40 you will still look 24! How do you do it?”

  “Well, I think it is because I have a tiny little nose, and –“

  “No, I mean – how do you get so much make-up to stick to your face?”

  “What?”

  “If I tried to put on that much make-up, it would simply slide off. My face reaches the make-up saturation point really quickly.”

  “Is that why you never wear any, and walk around looking like a bloke?”

  “Yeah – a bloke with two enormous humps growing out of his chest!”

  “Enormous? Please! My boobs were bigger than yours are now before I even reached puberty!”

  “Yeah, right. It’s not fair, though.” Louise returned to the original topic. “If I put on any more than a bit of mascara and a smear of lipgloss, my face looks like a plate of fruit salad!”

  “That’s the acne, dear.”

  “Oh – nice one! Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Actually, I’m thinking of avoiding the whole Keats family Christmas disaster thing and spending it with friends this year.”

  “Really? Who?” Marie ran down the list of Louise’s friends in her mind, all of whom were, in her view, boring, over-educated and single. “Margot? Pat?”

  “No – Simon and Kim.”

  “Oh, is Simon still going out with her?” Marie sniffed.

  *

  Louise had met Simon when he was at the ANU and she at Canberra University. He had been seeing her then-best-friend, Katherine, whom he had met late one night at Trix, Canberra’s version of a new-wave disco. Katherine had long since abandoned Canberra – and Simon – but the friendship between Simon and Louise had lingered. He was originally from Tasmania, and after he met Kim, who came from Melbourne, Louise had become part of their urban family. It included one or two other couples, none of them actually married; all out-of-towners who got together when extended families usually did, in the absence of theirs. Louise, the social outcast of her own family by virtue of being the only offspring who had gone to university like her father, instead of marrying at the first opportunity like her mother, found their company contemporary and revitalizing.

  Simon, like most men, had been captivated by the young, beautiful and curvaceous Marie, who enjoyed his attentions but did not return them. Nevertheless, she felt antagonized by the existence of any woman who pretended to peel away one of her admirers. Like most beautiful and hot-blooded women, Marie was assertive, possessive – and great company.

  “Yes, he is – God only knows why!”

  “Oh! Me! Me! Pick me!” Marie bounced up and down on the sofa, stabbing the air with her straightened arm like a schoolgirl. “I know why!”

  It was clear to them both that Marie was going to suggest that Kim had bedroom-related abilities that enchanted Simon, so Louise played dumb. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “Hey – why does Dad hate the roster?”

  “Because he is on it!” Marie didn’t even need to consider the question.

  “What?” Louise frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? Everyone who is going to be at the Christmas dinner is on it. That is the whole idea. We all go out to work. Why should Mum and Jane do everything just because they are mothers? They are working mothers! And why should you and I help them while the guys sit around and drink beer? It isn’t as though it is a BBQ and the men will be doing the cooking.”

  “Sam won’t be drinking beer,” Marie conceded knowingly.

  “No – good old Sam gets his buzz calorie free.”

  “And since when has Dad ever helped around the house?” Marie pointed out the critical flaw in Louise’s reasoning. “He is peed off about the roster because now Mum has to do his share as well as hers – and everyone will know it.”

  “You are kidding me.”

  “Do you really think that Dad is going to clear the table and scrape half-chewed food scraps off the dishes?” Marie laughed at the thought. “Come off it!”

  “Wow – this is scary!” Louise was shaking her head. “I now know how Dr Barbara Theoring must have felt when she first unscrambled the truth of the scriptures from the Dead Sea Scrolls. I’m shaking the very foundations of Life as we know it
– messing with beliefs that underpin our whole social structure.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, baby girl.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Marie suddenly stopped and pointed at Louise. “Aha!” she exclaimed. “I know why you want to have Christmas at Simon’s! Yes – you are trying to avoid doing your rostered job!”

  “What?”

  “Wait till Mum – and Dad – hear about this!”

  Chapter 2

  Jane loved her new house – especially the kitchen. She loved the cathedral ceiling, and the balconies overlooking the kitchen from both the upstairs playroom and the hall outside the master suite. Sliding glass doors led out to the patio, which was excavated from the rising landscape of the back yard and finished with quarry tiles, letting sunlight into the room all day. The room was painted a pale, gum-leaf green and the floor was laid with a large, off-white, porcelain tile.

  All her fittings were stainless steel – the fridge, stovetop, wall-oven, microwave, even the top of the island table. On Christmas day, she would have the patio decorated and the market umbrella opened up over a central table which would bear all the food. Chairs with side tables would be set against the retaining walls. On one side, the kitchen opened onto a large family room which, with its deep sofas and central location, would provide a comfortable retreat for older relatives if they got tired of the heat outside, or just felt like a change.

  On the opposite side, the formal dining room, not needed that day, could serve as a gift opening forum, overlooking the lounge room as it did. The lounge, which lay 5 steps below the level of the dining room, was at the front of the house and commanded a sweeping view of the entire Tuggeranong valley. Jane had placed the Christmas tree – the biggest one she could find – against the French windows so that you had to see the view whenever you looked at the tree. And what a tree! Jane thought it her best yet. She had gotten the idea from David Jones, the department store they had been patronizing since they were kids, when it was the only one in town. Only huge, silver baubles and tiny white electric lights adorned her tree, which was at least 2.5 metres high. Jane thought it picture perfect. This was going to be her Christmas. The one she had always dreamed of having. Her beautiful home, her handsome husband, her adorable children – a girl and a boy – she’d even lost that pesky few kilos that usually annoyed her all summer long. Yes – this was her time of triumph.

  Jane had the general appearance of a baby doll. Her round blue eyes, flawless fair complexion and wavy golden-brown hair perfectly suited her diminutive 5 feet nothing stature. As the middle child slash daughter, she had never been upheld as the brains nor the beauty of the trio. But now – she was the successful one – “a real woman” her father had pronounced her. Motherhood had seen her blossom, while the years had diminished the surprise of Louise’s accomplishments. It had been astonishing that Louise was so brainy when she was 17 – but now that she was a 28-year-old single accountant, who cared?

  And even Marie’s beauty, combined as it was with a withering wit, had the overall effect of scaring off girlfriends and male admirers alike.

  Yes, Jane wouldn’t change places with either of them. Now she was the popular one – the true centre of the family. Her mother preferred her to both her sisters now. Even Roxanne dared not criticise Jane behind her back – something she regularly did to both Louise and Marie.

  Jane didn’t like to admit it to herself, but this was one of the things she enjoyed most about Roxanne’s company. Never before had she met anyone who so openly and unrestrainedly – and with such fervor – criticized her two sisters! Till Roxanne came along, Jane’s sisters could do no wrong in the eyes of her entire family. Louise was the one everyone deferred to, and sought for advice – and Marie was the beauty of the family. Jane was barely noticed – until the day she got married. She was the first one in the family to do so – and when she immediately produced a grandson and, barely a year later, a granddaughter, her superior status was sealed.

  At first, Jane had been shocked to hear Roxanne speak so disparagingly of her sisters in front of their parents. But that shock had been replaced by even greater surprise when she witnessed Mary’s mild response – actually, it was more like tacit agreement – with Roxanne.

  “Don’t tell me Louise is changing jobs again,” scoffed Roxanne.

  “Is she?” asked Jim. Mary, Jim, Roxanne and Jane were sitting at Mary’s kitchen table, drinking coffee, while Michael and Sam, Jane’s husband, were outside inspecting Sam’s new work vehicle. “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, I have a friend who works at Defence, and he asked Michael if he knew Louise, since they have the same last name.”

  “That is so ‘Canberra’, isn’t it?” said Mary. “Before too long, everyone knows someone you know!”

  “She must have applied for a promotion there since she finished her graduate studies,” said Jim.

  “God – did she actually end up finishing that? Amazing!” Roxanne was dismissive. “It took her long enough!”

  To Jane’s shock, both her parents laughed and nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, I thought she would exceed the time limit and miss out. But she made it. It is hard, though, working full time and studying.”

  “It’s a breeze compared to raising a family!” Roxanne contradicted her father-in-law. Not surprisingly, Mary agreed strenuously with that statement.

  “But you won’t get any thanks for raising a family, Roxanne.” Mary’s mouth was set in a bitter twist as she spoke. Jim looked decidedly uncomfortable now and prepared to collect his paper and repair to his study, a lair he had carved out for himself under the house, in a sort of “walk out” basement area. “No thanks at all. But anyone who has a degree – no matter how useless – will get promoted these days.

  “Ah,” thought Jane. “So it’s like that, is it? Hate is a more binding force than love, and Roxanne has discovered Mum’s weak spot. Fancy my missing that!” And then she had another epiphany. The very fact that Roxanne had so quickly and easily discovered Mary’s penchant for sympathy told Jane that Roxanne paid attention to Mary – something no one else in the family had done for years. Jane suddenly saw that Roxanne had immediately recognized Mary’s suppressed anger towards her eldest daughter, and was validating that anger by criticizing Louise. Jane was hooked. Suddenly, she felt an unfamiliar sense of affirmation, and she saw Roxanne with new, more intimate eyes.

  *

  “So, how did it go, the interview over at Defence?” Phil enquired of Louise, as they each made themselves a morning coffee.

  Louise smiled, wondering if Phil was really hoping that she’d get the job – a promotion, in fact, which would place her at his level; or if he was just amazed at her nerve for actually applying for it in the first place. Or was he simply wondering whether he would be called upon to ratify the fairly textbook reference he had provided? She was under no illusions that Phil or the other “Tax boys” thought highly of her. She hadn’t come up through the ranks as they had – she had been promoted into the Tax Office from a chartered accounting firm, much to the chagrin of the “occupying forces”, and her applications for internal promotion had been ignored ever since. But, since Louise had been studying at night and the Tax Office was close to the university, she was determined to stick it out there till she graduated.

  “Well,” she answered, “I think it went alright. Let me know if you get a call – that will be a good sign.”

  “Oh, yes, I did get a call, as a matter of fact,” Phil said.

  Louise was taken aback. “So soon?”

  “Yes,” smiled Phil. “They seemed to think that you have a graduate degree!”

  “I do have a graduate degree.”

  “A degree, Louise, from a university.” Phil spoke softly and kindly now. “You are doing an accounting certificate, but they think you have a degree.”

  Louise’s heart was thumping angrily now. “Phil, I am not “doing a certifica
te”. I have a degree. A graduate degree. I have both a bachelor’s degree and a graduate degree. From the University of Canberra.”

  Phil paused, shocked. “What?”

  “What did you say to them?”

  “I, er, I thought – I didn’t – er, Leonie – “ Leonie Eaton, another supervisor, had joined them in the coffee room, oblivious to the tension.

  “Hi Phil – Louise,” Leonie was a tall, attractive, athletic, professional type; very intelligent, not very chatty, better qualified than any of her peers and the only female manager in the office.

  “By the way, Louise – congratulations. I hear that you finished your graduate diploma at the university.” Leonie acknowledged kindly. “I did that one, too – I’ll bet you’re glad it’s over.”

  Louise smiled at Leonie and glared at Phil.

  “Yes, I am. I was wondering, Leonie – would you mind giving me a reference? I applied for a promotion at Defence and there seems to be a problem with my referee.”

  “Sure,” said Leonie. “Just give me the name and number to call.”

  “Thanks, I will.” Louise left, stifling her annoyance.

  It was too ridiculous. Surely that sort of attitude had passed with her mother’s generation. Did these men seriously lead such sheltered lives that they still thought educated women wore bi-focals and long, baggy skirts? Louise stopped at her desk just long enough to extract her ciggies, then lent over and jabbed the woman who sat across from her in the arm. “Smoke time Vera,” she announced, waving the pack at her friend.

  “Oh. OK,” Vera threw her pen down and her head up and followed Louise out.

  Once outside on the footpath with the other morning smokers, Louise related the coffee room conversation to Vera, who laughed. “Why are you so surprised?” she asked. “Phil’s wife is a nurse, and Phil himself has only just finished his B.A. part time by correspondence.”

  “So?” Louise didn’t grasp the relevance of either of these comments.

  “So – he naturally assumed that he was better qualified than you. Oh boy – are you in for it now!”