The North Shore Ladies Book Club
Episode 3
Diana had been voted the girl most likely to marry well when they were at St Hilda’s. She had certainly done that, but it wasn’t without a lot of grit and determination. No conventionally pretty beauty, her nose was a little too button-like and her lips over-full, but it was her smile that won everyone over. A smile that could make the grey clouds disappear, her indulgent mother opined. Now she was once more ensconced on the North Shore, in a lovely California bungalow, recently tastefully renovated with duck egg blue walls. The road had been long and not without a few potholes, but she’d finally made it. Now she could breathe easier.
She checked the security cameras for early arrivals. The traffic outside was getting so noisy – only five years before when they’d moved to this leafy enclave the Pacific Highway had only been busy in peak hour. So many high rises – she guessed inhabited mostly by Chinese – not that there was anything wrong with that. They were far enough away in Duchamp Crescent to perceive the traffic as merely a low hum in the distance. Times had changed, hadn’t they? She’d made sure this time that they picked a California bungalow with the low stained glass windows and a suitably long drive where car tyres would crunch as they drove up to the front door. You spent your whole life seeking safety and security, but you couldn’t really ever be sure of anything in life, could you?
After her father had so inconveniently died of pancreatic cancer and she was ripped from the security of St. Hilda’s with its Olympic sized pool and expansive gardens, she’d struggled to cope at the local high school, with the louts who presumed that she was a stuck up bitch and who were obviously all secretly in love with her. It had been difficult, but she had managed to finish her HSC and gain entry to the university of her choice, where she’d excelled. The irony of it was that her results actually improved because there was less competition.
That Therese now, she’d never actually gone to Uni, had she? Yet, she’d got top marks at St. Hilda’s. She was always in the A group, and Diana lingered on the fringes, trying to overhear cool phrases that she could parrot and imitate gestures that would give her entrée into their pack. That was it, like a wolf pack - the strongest survived and the weakest were left behind.
That time in the Drama group, where she was dying to get lead part in Blithe Spirit, where she’d rehearsed the lines over and over again to the floppy haired teddy in her room., hoping to impress Mr James, the hot young teacher who was closer to their age than their parents and who acted more like one of their contemporaries. She wondered now if that was appropriate, the way he hugged them too tightly after a performance. After all the work she’d put in, she’d fully expected to be picked for the lead, but ended up with such a minor part, it was hardly worth going to rehearsals. On opening night, it was Therese who got all the kudos. How did she do that? But the tables were turned now, weren’t they? Little Therese in that poky little two bedroom villa with all those dreary pensioners – ha, she’d won!
Diana was washing up the few Venetian glass things that couldn’t go into the new Miele, while her husband was fumbling with a packet of Codral Daytime.
‘Can you answer the door, darling, I’ve got my hands elbow deep in suds’
As he answered the door, Hugh, a young looking sixty-something was snuffly, holding his hands up so his germs wouldn’t be spread.
‘Hi Therese. Come in, come in. I was just about to go back to bed.’
It was unusual for him to be home – a head cold, Diana yelled from the kitchen – as he waved everyone vaguely toward the living room. Good-looking, in a distinguished grey haired accountant way. And he was an accountant. Diana’s mother had always told her that if she couldn’t nab a doctor, an accountant was the next best thing. You’d never have to worry about your tax return or whether the rates had been paid.
‘Go upstairs, now Hugh, and rest, there’s a dear boy.’ Diana commanded as she entered the lounge room, took Therese by the arm and led her to the table.
When he had gone, Diana said:
‘Men are such babies, aren’t they? It’s Man Flu!’
There was a faint burnt smell coming from the kitchen which wasn’t entirely masked by Blue Glade. Diana’s baking skills were once again eclipsed by Patricia’s, who turned up with a delectable cheesecake that Diana managed to cut into uneven slices, so that she got the lion’s share. When Diana lifted her spoon, laughing, she said something about having to watch her weight, which actually had never fluctuated since her teens. She had to be careful the rest of the week.
When Caroline was late, the talk inevitably turned to their various minor health problems, from Therese’s varicose veins to Patricia’s constipation to Diana’s multiple allergies and Brenda’s dyspepsia, skirting around the issue of Caroline’s fainting spell the previous month.
‘She’s really late, this time, should we ring her?’ Therese asked.
Almost on cue, the doorbell rang. Diana ran to answer it and greeted Caroline effusively.
‘Hello, dear, we’ve missed you. Sorry, we’ve already started on the cake. Sit down. Coffee or tea? Tea, isn’t it?’ she warbled.
‘So, how are things, Caroline?’ Patricia brushed a cake crumb from her upper lip.
‘Fine, just fine.’
‘So, you haven’t had any more episodes, the fainting, I mean?’
‘I did, but finally went to the doctor and I’m having more tests. Feeling fine though.’ she replied, taking a quick gulp of tea.
‘That’s great, Caroline. And now, for the book. I’ve chosen one of the greatest classics in the English language – Pride and Prejudice – possibly my favourite book of all time.’ Diana bellowed.
Therese said:
‘I frankly loathed that book ever since I had to read it in high school. Those self-interested cardboard characters obsessed with marrying well made me sick. ‘
Caroline just smiled. There was a creak on the stairs. They all turned to see Hugh entering the lounge room. Even in pyjamas, dressing gown and tousled hair, he managed to look both attractive and almost boyish.
‘I’ve run out of Codral’ he mumbled. He had to squeeze past Caroline to get to the kitchen and Therese thought she caught a flicker of interest in his eyes - just a flicker. Diana glared at her husband coldly.
‘You need to rest, dear. I won’t offer you any cake. Go back to bed.’
‘Alrighty’ he replied dutifully. ‘Have a good time, girls.’ He ambled back upstairs.
Diana turned back to her well-thumbed copy of the book – she opened it to a marked page
‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a fortune, must be in want of a wife.’ ‘I just love that. That’s exactly what happened to me and Hugh. Of course it took a while to convince him – but then they all need a little push, don’t they? In my case, it was little Hughie’s imminent arrival, ha ha. Water under the bridge now.’
Therese looked shocked. What was her problem, Diana wondered. Didn’t she know you had to use every little bit of feminine wiles to get what you wanted? The end justified the means, and look at little Hughie now. Not so little, at almost thirty.
‘Of course, now my little Hughie’s back. It’s lovely, cooking his favourite spag bol again.’
‘Oh, he’s living with you? I thought…’ Therese enquired.
‘Just temporary. Till he gets his own place …That bitch Alison’s got the house.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘So what did you think of it, Brenda?’ Therese asked.
‘Oh yes, it’s a great classic. It is an accurate portrayal of a certain kind of eighteenth century life.’ As usual, Brenda was playing her cards close to her chest, being polite, nice, non-judgemental. You could never really tell what she was really thinking.
‘And you, Therese?’
‘Oh, I’d have to agree with Brenda.’
That was it – and when Caroline told a really funny story about a starving mutt, who’d made an absolute pig of himself in the forecourt of a McDonalds – snavelling someone’s Big Mac right under their nose, Diana took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. Caroline seemed to be always up for a laugh.
When they all stepped back out on the soft bell-like yellow blossoms on Diana’s tessellated path, she was glad that Caroline was in the Book Club. They needed fresh blood.
