Flying the Coop (8 page)

‘I know.' Kim lit another cigarette with a slim gold lighter and took a deep drag, being careful to blow the smoke away from Ebony. ‘I mean, people
say
they're going to do it, they just never usually
do
.'

‘So what's actually
out
there in Healesville, Chris?' asked Ebony, making it sound like a different planet. ‘I mean, apart from the sanctuary. Is there a gym?'

‘A gym's the least of my worries.'

‘Maybe now, but you've got to think of the future.' Ebony flicked a glance over to Chris that suggested the future was closer than she might think.

‘I'm sure there's a gym.' Chris pulled her coat around her. ‘It
is
a township, you know. People
do
live there.'

‘But what sort of people?' asked Kim, taking another drag. ‘I'm telling you, I grew up out in Kyneton and some of those country types are
very
strange. Salt of the earth – but
very
strange.'

‘Personally, you wouldn't catch me dead on a farm,' Annie sniffed. ‘And poultry, for god's sake! Can't stand it. Won't even cook it.'

‘That's not true!' Chris frowned at Annie. ‘I've seen you eating chicken here!'

‘I didn't say I wouldn't
eat
it. Just that I don't
cook
it. Horrid, pink hairless stuff.'

‘Well, I prefer my poultry hairless, thanks,' commented Ebony.

‘You know what I mean.'

‘Actually I do know a couple who did it.' Ebony leant forward confidentially. ‘They had a gorgeous terrace place not far from here. Victorian. Sold the lot up and bought a hobby farm out woop-woop. Two years later she was back, without a cent.'

‘Great,' said Chris. ‘Thanks.'

‘What happened to the husband?' Janice, her sandy hair sporting fresh blonde tips, pulled over a chair and sat down between Annie and Kim. ‘Sorry I'm late, girls. Didn't get home till the wee hours this morning so I overslept. Have you ordered?'

‘Yep, should be here soon.' Annie poured some chardonnay into a spare glass and passed it across.

‘Thanks.' Janice placed her handbag on the table and then adjusted her neckline which, no matter what she wore, always seemed to be stretched tight across her ample bosom. ‘So, come on, Ebony, what happened to this husband?'

‘Had a nervous breakdown. Ended up in some psych hospital for a year or so. Completely nuts.'

‘Oh,' said Janice, with disappointment. ‘Well, is he out yet?'

‘Yeah, this is about three years ago. Last I heard he was remarried and living in the suburbs.'

‘The suburbs!' repeated Annie with horror, as if this was more tragic than his sojourn in the psychiatric hospital.

‘I take it we're talking about Chris going off to live in the wilderness?' asked Janice, waiting for everyone to nod before continuing. ‘Gutsy effort, Chris. I take my hat off to you. Or I would if I was wearing one.'

‘Like what you've done to your hair,' said Kim, running her fingers through her own blonde mop. ‘You're joining my mob, are you?'

‘What mob?' Annie raised her eyebrows questioningly. ‘Those who dye their hair?'

At that point, a casually dressed waiter arrived at the table
with a tray full of assorted delicacies. It was their habit, at these lunches, to order a selection of finger food, which would be put into the centre of the table and shared. Today's offerings included a large cob loaf that had been hollowed out and filled with what looked like a mayonnaise-hummus mix, some antipasto, sushi, and a platter of assorted mini-kebabs. Handbags and cigarette packets were removed from the table to make enough room for the spread.

‘Good choices,' commented Janice, breaking off a piece of the cob and dipping it into the mixture in the middle. ‘Delicious.'

‘Well, I know another guy who did the country thing.' Ebony picked up a mini-kebab and then turned to Annie. ‘Do you remember that Phillip bloke, used to be in PR at your firm?'

‘That's right! I'd forgotten about him!'

‘Is he single?' asked Janice with interest.

‘In a manner of speaking,' Annie laughed. ‘But I don't know that you're his type.'

‘No.' Ebony grinned as she looked Janice up and down, letting her gaze linger pointedly on her chest area. ‘Not at all.'

‘Okay, then,' Chris frowned impatiently. ‘Tell us the joke.'

‘It's no joke.' Ebony pointed the kebab at Chris. ‘Absolutely true. He was quite high up in PR, earning well over a hundred grand a year, and that was a few years back. Anyway, at some stage he invested in an ostrich farm down in . . . Baxter, I think it was. Or was it Berwick? Maybe Beaconsfield? No, I think it was –'

‘Get to the point,' Janice said impatiently.

‘Wherever, then. But over time, he got so
into
the ostriches –'

‘Ha, ha,' interrupted Annie appreciatively.

‘– that he ended up throwing in the PR side of things and moving onto the property. And, about six months later, his wife up and left him. Took the kids and came back to the city
and at first she wouldn't tell anyone
why
. But then, when the property settlement got really nasty, it all came out.'

‘I think I know where this is headed,' said Chris slowly. ‘And I don't imagine I'm going to have the same problem.'

‘The mind boggles.' Ebony paused momentarily, and then grimaced. ‘Yecch.'

Kim frowned. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I don't get it.'

‘Maybe that
isn't
a dye job then?' Annie glanced at Kim's head.

‘He got
into
the ostriches,' repeated Ebony emphatically. ‘You know, he got
into
them? In a
big
way?'

‘Oh my god! You're
kidding
!'

‘Not according to his wife.' Annie helped herself to a piece of sushi. ‘She said it
wasn't
so big.
That
was one of the problems. But it was still a bit much for the poor ostriches. Apparently on most evenings down in Baxter – or Berwick, or wherever – especially when the moon was partially obscured by clouds and darkness reigned supreme, you could hear this mournful wailing through the bush that would go on for hours.'

‘Hours, hey?' said Janice, impressed.

‘You made that last part up.' Kim looked at Annie doubtfully. ‘Didn't you?'

‘Well, all right. But you've got to admit, it adds a bit of spice.'

‘I don't know that a story about an ostrich bonker
needs
any added spice,' commented Chris philosophically. ‘It's sort of a stand-alone.'

Annie grinned. ‘True. But what I
do
know is that nowadays whenever his name comes up at work, one of the guys will say something like, oh yeah,
I
remember Phillip – great PR bloke, but just couldn't leave the birds alone.'

‘How can you . . .?' Kim nibbled musingly on a piece of sushi. ‘I mean, wouldn't he have, um . . .?'

Chris left it to the other women to explain the ins and outs of the situation. Instead, she broke off a large piece of the cob and loaded it with some of the mix. Then, leaning back, she concentrated on eating and just watching life go by along the Yarra. Across the other side, traffic could be seen, appearing and disappearing through the narrow gaps between the buildings, while on the Yarra itself, a kayak sped past upriver, three sets of oars working in perfect unison. Along the path that snaked next to the river there was constant movement: runners jogging, young parents proudly pushing three-wheeler strollers, tourists with cameras at the ready, university students loaded with books, groups of teenagers trying desperately to look cool.

Chris picked up her chardonnay with her spare hand and took a sip. She was going to miss this, but she really wasn't sure how much. Certainly she would miss this group of friends, with their light, fun conversations and risqué bantering. And she already knew that, although she would offer invitations to come visit, none of them would. They could be admiring and envious in a theoretical sort of way, but they were city people through and through. To them, Box Hill was out in the sticks and places like Healesville, or Berwick, or Baxter, were somewhere out the other side of the mythical black stump.

And suddenly, with a flash of insight, Chris realised that in another year or so, she herself would be part of their lunchtime banter: ‘Hey, girls, do you remember Chris? The redhead who threw everything in to go and live with the chooks?'And this realisation awoke her lead weight of niggling doubts so that they churned up towards the chardonnay, and the kebabs, and the mayonnaise-hummus mix. She put her piece of cob loaf down on the table and felt sick. What the hell had she done?

‘Are you okay, Chris?' asked Annie, with concern. ‘You look pale.'

Ebony waved her hand ostentatiously. ‘It's probably the cigarette smoke.'

‘Hey, I've moved away from the table!' said Janice, aggrieved. ‘What else do you want me to do?'

‘Give up!'

‘I'm fine,' said Chris to Annie, who was still looking at her. ‘Really.'

‘Okay.' Annie, obviously doubtful but willing to be convinced, returned to the conversation leaving Chris to stare down at the Yarra once more and try to get her stomach under control before she gave the group something else to talk about.

A middle-aged couple strolling down the path hand-in-hand suddenly paused just beneath the restaurant balcony and commenced, or continued, what looked like a heated discussion. The woman, a plump, curly-haired brunette, pulled her hand away from her partner's and folded her arms across her chest tellingly. The guy then immediately used his now free hand to jab in the air and illustrate whatever point he was trying to make. Chris watched with interest, wondering if it said something negative about her that she found it strangely satisfying to witness these complete strangers argue, whereas their earlier intimacy had just been slightly depressing. She was reminded of something her mother had often said to her father whenever he had come home after a bad day.
Misery loves company
. To which her father would respond by slamming his way out of the house and ensconcing himself in his garden shed for the remainder of the evening. Thus disproving his wife's theory.

Chris swallowed the last of her dip-laden cob loaf and took a sip of her wine. The man was still waving his hands around and lecturing his partner, who stood there silently, arms across
her chest and staring out over the Yarra. Suddenly, though, she unfolded her arms, gave him a filthy look and strode away. So quickly that he was left mid-gesture, with his mouth still open. It took him a moment or so to recover and then he closed his mouth and took off at a brief clip after his wife, who was already a good distance away. Chris watched him go and reflected on how ridiculous he suddenly looked, hurrying like that after someone who wasn't even looking back.

And it occurred to her that, as a tactic, putting a distance between yourself and your problem was actually quite effective. Apart from anything else, there was a good chance that by the time the problem caught up, it would be too breathless to annoy you anymore. Perhaps, by moving to Healesville, that was exactly what she was doing. Putting some distance between herself and her failed marriage, her ex-husband, his new partner – and all the assorted issues that went with them. This thought warmed her, until a little voice deep inside her head asked, in an unnecessarily mocking tone, whether that meant she was also expecting her particular problem to follow her at some stage – but she rapidly shovelled the little voice into a cerebral closet and then locked it for good measure.

‘Chris? What on earth are you staring at?'

‘I was just watching that couple.' Chris pointed down the river path to where the woman could just be seen power-walking her way past the last boathouse, with the man still half walking and half jogging behind her. ‘They were having a great argument.'

‘Oh, I love a good argument.' Janice stood up for a better view and then clenched her fist and punched it in the air. ‘You go, girl!'

‘You only like a good argument because then you can jump in and grab the guy on the rebound,' commented Kim, flicking her lighter open to light another cigarette.

‘There is that.' Janice sat back down, not offended in the least. ‘Rebound sex is one of the best sorts. All that pent-up guilt and revenge and aggression. Mmm-
hmm
.'

Ebony shook her head. ‘There's something very wrong with you, you know.'

‘True,' replied Janice cheerfully.

‘Anybody for a refill?' asked Annie, holding up the wine bottle and then proceeding to top up each of the glasses without waiting for an answer.

‘I think we need another bottle.' Ebony leant back in her chair and tried to spot the waiter.

‘I'll grab one,' Janice said. ‘I need to go to the bathroom anyway.'

They all watched Janice thread her way through the crowded tables, slightly unsteady already on her high heels. As soon as she was out of earshot, the conversation immediately turned to her sexual proclivities and Chris grinned to herself, knowing that their condemnation was tempered, despite itself, by a sneaky admiration. She picked up her wineglass and turned away from the table, gazing up the river path to see if the arguing couple were still within sight. But they were both long gone. And Chris wondered if the man had ever caught up with his partner, or whether he had given up, instead falling by the wayside to simply watch her stride unhesitatingly into the distance. And she wished fervently that she was capable of that sort of certainty. To stride forward without hesitation, with absolute faith in yourself and your destiny. No second guesses and no second thoughts. Not even for a minute.

Chris got home just before five o'clock and decided to run herself a hot bath. She wasn't expecting the kids back until after tea, which she estimated gave her at least two hours to
soak away the effects of the alcohol and the unaccustomed freedom. She turned the taps on in the main bathroom, where the bath was both wider and deeper than in the ensuite, and liberally added some strawberry-scented bubble-bath. Then she stripped off her clothes and left them where they fell on the floor of her bedroom before padding, stark naked, down the hallway and into the bathroom.