Episode 5

 

 

Therese undid the shiny ribbon and opened the box.  Julie had sent her one of those Russian dolls within dolls, what did they call them? Babushkas? It reminded her of those depressing turgid novels that they’d had to read in school, Anna Karenina, Dostoyevsky, and what was the name of the other guy? It was either her memory failing her or that she brushed pieces of information she didn’t care about to the recesses of her mind, to moulder and disintegrate.

The dolls were bright and lacquered.  As she peeled them apart, right down to the tiniest one which she held in the palm of her hand like a precious stone, she had a surge of indefinable emotion – was it joy?  She and Julie might still be able to mend fences, although Therese didn’t know what fences they actually were.

She must have dozed off, for when she opened her eyes, it had already grown dark outside.  There were soft swishing plumbing noises and muffled voices, since the villas were so close together and not full brick.  It was half past six and was it Thursday?  Time for the slightly burnt chop, limp coleslaw, overcooked sausages and stale bread rolls.  Should she go to the communal barbecue?  There was nothing in the fridge but some leftover lasagne that she’d already reheated once. 

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“Oh hi, Therese, haven’t seen you for a longa- time, how are-a you?” 

Silvio hugged her somewhat too tightly – it was like being in the grip of an octopus, although  at only 5 feet 4, he was remarkably strong, with luxuriant silver hair.  The first three buttons on his golf shirt were proudly undone, revealing white curly chest hair, where a gold crucifix hung prominently. It was actually digging into her now.

“Good thanks, Silvio.  Good…” From across the courtyard, his wife fixed her beady eyes on Therese, as though she was some kind of femme fatale.  For goodness sake, was it her fault her husband was an ageing lech? 

“How’s Maria?” she managed to say.

When Therese finally extricated herself, she made her way to the grill, where the men were separating the Aldi sausages and throwing them on the red hot embers where they sputtered.  She took a plate, waited patiently for them to fill it and then moved through the courtyard.

Phyllis, who was in the villa behind hers, patted the seat next to her and looked up.

“Lovely weather, Therese, how have you been?  We’ve been so busy this week – golf on Monday, Bridge on Tuesday and then Ray had to get to the doctors to get his macula checked again.  It’s all go, and then on Thursday, would you believe it, we had another appointment with the heart specialist. “

Therese stifled a yawn as she moved the limp coleslaw to one side.

“Ray’s medication has got to be changed now, after all these years, he’s had his Webster packs, always does them on a Sunday night and now he has to take two of the blue… no wonder people get Alzheimers, is it?

Therese’s eyes had begun to droop, but then she was startled by Phyllis digging her in the ribs and laughing uproariously at her own fabulous joke.  Was it even a joke she heard?  She’d almost dozed off at the mention of bridge. 

“Are you OK, Therese?  You look a bit tired.  There’s this new health food supplement …”

“Thanks Phyllis, I might head off now, bit tired tonight…and I…”

“Are you sure?  There’s bingo later on, I wondered if you might join us at our table.” 

Therese felt like stabbing out her own eyeballs with a rusty fork, but she smiled with what she hoped was a bit of regret. She really wanted to see the finale of The Bachelor.

“Oh, I’d love to, but sorry.  I’m expecting a call from my daughter in the UK tonight.’

 

“Oh well, if you have to.  Family is so important, isn’t it?  I know when the grandchildren come over, I drop everything and cook up a storm and…”

 

Therese was already walking away, dropping her plastic plate and cutlery in the bin. 

 

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Therese flopped into her recliner and flicked on the television - the tail end of the news – all terrorism, murders, home invasions (she must remember to get that doorbell fixed and get some more security) and celebrities getting Botox.  She was momentarily glad that her life lacked drama and while she did feel a bit guilty lying to Phyllis (there was no sign whatever that Julie was going to call. How long had it been?

She’d sent her that beautiful little Russian doll, which stared at her now, immovable and its hands folded, in the bright kerchief and apron.  It had pride of place on the mantel, next to a picture of the three of them, Michael, Therese and Julie when Julie graduated from university.  They all looked so happy She couldn’t keep track of the years.  But then time seemed to be speeding up, didn’t it?  Or was it simply her imagination? When you were a child time seemed to stretch before you infinitesimally – summer would never come – your birthday or Christmas would never come – you couldn’t wait to finish school – you couldn’t wait to get married – so many things seemed to now be telescoped into each other, one after the other, milestones, and then it all seemed to slip away from you suddenly. You couldn’t hold on, you were swept relentlessly into some future that you weren’t prepared for, that you weren’t even sure you wanted.