‘No. That’s it. You’re going. Give yourself some space and give Dennis a chance to cool down. I can’t guarantee I’ll be friendly next time I see him.’
It’s a concession, but one I’m prepared to live with. I ring work to give them the bad news, then Nani, who thinks it’s fantastic. I also contact Robbie to let her know we should get together while I’m in town.
‘Whoo, baby!’ she exclaims. ‘This will be ace. I wanna go to this club in town…’
‘Sounds good.’ It’s the last thing I feel like right now, but whatever.
‘So have you signed up for an interview yet? Girl, if you get that residency I’m gonna tell everyone how your career as a famous photographer was all because of me.’
Famous photographer– yeah, right. ‘I’m, uh, still working out a day.’
She crows down the line. ‘They’ll take you, Amie. I can feel it in my waters!’ Her voice turns speculative. ‘Hey, have you seen Harris Derwent lately? Is he out of hospital now? I thought I saw him on Langtree Avenue a few days ago, but it might’ve just been someone with a resemblance – he’s probably back in Ouyen, doing the dirty with Della Metcalfe, am I right?’
My limp smile changes. ‘Uh, he’s out of hospital, yeah. You might have seen him, I think he has mates in Mildura. But I don’t know what he’s getting up to with Della – none of my business.’
I finish the call, my stomach churning. I should be worried about Robbie spotting Harris in Mildura, but I’m not. It’s the other part of what she said that got me. I remember Harris’s pink phone, the words that went with it –me and Dell have some history. I joked about it then. Why don’t I feel like joking now?
Later that night I text Harris:Hospital appointment changed – call for further details.
He gets back to me within an hour. ‘You’re coming to Mildura? When?’
‘Earlier than expected. I’ll be arriving tomorrow to help my cousins get ready for the wedding.’ I consider whether to tell him about the scene at work with Dennis, discount the idea just as quickly. If Dad got that angry about it I’d hate to think how Harris might react. ‘We’ll need to figure out a place to meet.’
He’s silent for a second, then his voice goes warm. ‘The river. There’s plenty of quiet places along the banks, near the old pipe factory. I’ll meet you there, and we can drive further in. Lemme suss out a day and time and I’ll text.’
I finish the call quickly. I can’t deny the soft pulse of excitement inside me, like a heartbeat. Harris and I will get to meet in private, away from prying eyes at the hospital. Just the two of us, sitting on the Murray River’s bank.
But I need to flatten that feeling, squash it back down. Harris and I have become friends. We’ve shared some personal details with each other. It doesn’t mean I should let myself think our relationship is personal in a different sense. I will not bethatgirl– that dewy-eyed girl.
Harris has his own life, his own agenda…and a long torrid history. He doesn’t need me mooning and sighing. He knows plenty of girls who’d be happy to do that for him.
*
My aunt’s house is a single-storey double-brick with a fortress-like fence. An elaborate yellow-painted gate, much taller than me, lets you through to the front yard. In the gardens on either side of the concrete path are loquat trees, jasmine trailing everywhere, plenty of greens and pinks, flowers in bloom with the season. My aunt lost her husband, Deepan, to a drunk driver more than fifteen years ago. She plants a new rose in his honour every spring.
When mum died I spent a lot of time here at Hansa’s. After Mum’s funeral, Dad did his best to keep it together at our place. Things began to get on top of him though. I remember coming home from school one afternoon and finding Dad still slumped in the same chair at the kitchen table he’d been in when I’d left that morning. The love of his life was gone, and his whole world had fallen apart. Just like mine.
That’s when it was decided I’d go up to Mildura to live for a while.
It wasn’t until I arrived at this house that I realised how quiet my own had been. Here was conversation, colour, routine, and – for bonus points – two female cousins who let me sit in their room and look at their magazines and gossip with them. Jasminder would plonk me on her bed and brush my hair. It wasn’t a replacement for my mum, but it went a long way towards salving the wound.
So this house means a lot to me. Beyond the rosebushes on the left is the rising driveway and the carport, which provides a covered walkway to a brick studio. The studio is supposed to be a guest room bedsit, but it’s only ever been used as a place to store junk. My aunt tried to do it up once, with a nice day-bed and couch for Nani, but there was no way Nani was ever going to live anywhere but right in the thick of things, so she has her own room in the house.
Auntie Hansa waves a hand at the studio as she ushers me through the front yard. ‘Beena has cleaned up there for you if you want to stay outside. But I thought you might like to stay inside, in Jasminder’s room.’
‘Beena cleaned up the outhouse?’ That was always what we used to call it, amongst ourselves.
‘I wouldn’t really call itcleaning. More,pushing things over to the walls.’ Hansa helps me get my suitcase through the doorway. ‘But come in, have tea first, and then you can decide.’
I’ve barely dumped my suitcase when my aunt pushes me through the living room with the enormous portrait of Guru-ji above the mantelpiece, and into the kitchen. The kitchen is basically the soul of the house. Hansa positions me on a high stool at the kitchen island and bustles to get me a drink from the fridge. It’s mango cup, one of Nani’s specialities, with a liberal quantity of ice. It tastes like home.
‘Now, tell me how your father is,’ Hansa asks as she moves from sink to electric kettle to crockery cupboard, collecting the tea things. ‘And Nani says you have a friend leaving town.’
I give my aunt the potted versions of all the news, including a debrief on the CNA job. My aunt is Head of Nursing at Mallee Health here in Mildura, so she knows the ins and outs of the job. It was something she and my mum always had in common: they both knew the nursing life.
When it’s her turn, my aunt shares all the excitement about the preparations for Jas’s wedding. I find it all a bit staggering. ‘My god, Mami-ji, there’s so much organisation involved!’
‘Not to mention the cooking, and the shopping, and the cost. Oh my god, the cost!’ Hansa shakes her head. ‘Ah, well, these are my daughters. I do my best for them, yes?’ She smiles, brushes back my hair. ‘And one day, with your father’s blessing, I will do wonderful things for you, also.’
