The Listmaker (13 page)

‘I'll nick off, then, and leave you to it,' Corrie said, getting up. ‘Oh … and Mum wanted to know how many extra glasses Aunty Nat needs. You know, wine glasses for the wedding – Mum was helping her out with them or something.'

‘Aunty Nat's down at the supermarket, but I'll tell her when she gets back.'

‘No worries. And Sarah … I'm sorry about that other stuff. You'll have a
great
time when you move to the city. See ya!'

‘Come over tonight and we'll have another go at
Rulers of Cedrona
,' I said impulsively. It was only after she'd nodded and run up the path to the front gate that I realised it was the first time I'd ever actually invited her. All the other times, I'd just left it to
her
to show up, and hadn't exactly been very welcoming when she had. Feeling ashamed, I went upstairs to phone Dad, first checking my watch to make sure it was ten-thirty precisely. (He'd told Aunty Nat that it wasn't any use ringing before then, because he'd have business to attend to.) The receptionist put me through and we talked for a few minutes, although Dad did most of it. (He told me all about his trip, trying to fit it in quickly, as he had a meeting scheduled for the rest of the morning.)

‘Sorry – hang on a minute,' I broke in. ‘Horace just got tangled up in the phone cord.'

‘Still the same old Horace, eh?'

‘He's
beautiful
; I wouldn't swap him for any other cat in the world! I'm getting him a new tag with the apartment address for his collar. You don't think there's any danger he'll fall in the swimming pool when we move there, do you? Cats are supposed to be able to swim, but Horace mightn't …'

‘Perhaps now's the right time to mention this, Sarah,' Dad said. ‘You'll have to know sooner or later. The thing is, pets just aren't allowed in those apartments. The regulations are very strict about it, but you're such a sensible girl I know you won't have any trouble accepting what can't be helped. I meant to break the news before I left, but Aunty Nat said to wait. She didn't want to spoil the school holidays for you, I guess. Piriel was planning to drop a hint if she got the chance, but she wasn't too keen about being in the hot seat. I hope it's not too much of a blow. It's not as though the cat's got to be put down or anything like that, and I'm sure Nat won't mind giving it a permanent home at Avian Cottage.'

Well, I told myself briskly, that solved the hassles of litter-tray training when Horace thought it was so undignified. It took care of a whole stack of problems, really – worrying that he might fall off the apartment balcony, cough fur balls on the expensive new carpeting, knock over those sphere lamps, tumble into the pool, the trauma of another move. Horace was used to being with the aunts, anyway, and seeing me just on weekends and in term holidays.

‘It's … okay,' I said, hoping my voice didn't sound quavery. ‘I should have realised there might be some rule like that. It's probably for the best. Horace just got settled in at Avian Cottage, so it wouldn't have been fair to shift him again.'

‘Good girl,' Dad said approvingly. ‘I didn't know what I was going to do if you went hysterical on me. Tell you what, we'll buy something or other to make up for it. How about your own personal television for the apartment? Then it wouldn't matter if we're watching a program that clashes with one of
your
favourites. Now, another important thing … Would you let Aunty Nat know that we've decided to get married in Sydney? I didn't mention anything to her last night when I rang, because the details weren't finalised then.'

‘
Sydney
? But she's …'

‘Concentrate, sweetheart, so you can pass the message on properly. It will be next Wednesday, two o'clock, and we've ditched the reception idea. We're just heading for the airport straight afterwards. But if you'd like to come up for the registry-office business, we could fly you up, that's no problem. Arrange something with Piriel. I'm meeting her for lunch back at our hotel when I finish here, so I could get her to give you a buzz.'

I hadn't even known Piriel had gone to meet him in Sydney. She hadn't phoned to let me know, or to say goodbye or anything.

‘I hear the old girls wanted to have some kind of shindig out at their place, so it's just as well Aunty Nat happens to be out shopping right now, isn't it?' Dad said. ‘I could have got my ears boxed over the phone, otherwise. Piriel said it was all pretty heavy going, and she didn't quite know
what
to do when they suggested it.'

‘But at Christmas she seemed –'

‘Listen, smooth down any ruffled feathers if necessary, there's a darling. What we could do, I suppose, is fly the
three
of you up here next Wednesday. We wouldn't have time to take you around sightseeing, before or after the wedding, but you could go out on the town by yourselves. How would that be as a cure for ruffled feathers?'

‘They don't like planes,' I said slowly. ‘Aunt Dosh gets airsick, and Aunty Nat always thinks the pilot might die of a heart attack. It was in some old film she saw and one of the passengers had to crash-land. Even when they went to New Zealand that time, they got there on a cruise ship.'

‘Well, not to turn it into a big issue, Sarah, there's a good girl. We'll sort something out. But not to fret, either, if you don't make it to the registry office. As I explained before, you'd be the only ones there except for us. Marriage is really just something between the two people concerned. Besides, we'll be seeing you when we get back in a few weeks, won't we? Look, I've got to go now, can't very well keep a whole marketing team waiting …'

I replaced the phone and went back downstairs and out into the courtyard, tripping over Corrie's bundle of plants. Even though I didn't like getting my hands dirty, I decided to plant them safely, before the afternoon sun crept around to that side of the house. It was something to do, anyhow, a distraction, seeing I'd run out of odd jobs inside. The plants were a bright, clear green, as though they'd been laundered, with little tear-shaped leaves. Plants needed cosseting after being put in; I knew that from watching Aunt Dosh. She always used the watering can, because she said it was gentler than a hose. I went around the back to find it, ducking under the fronds of the willow tree. Piriel said it should be chopped down, because willow roots damaged drains. I hadn't known that, but it must be true if Piriel said so. It seemed a shame, because that big tree was glorious, like an illustration from an old-fashioned fairytale book. Still, that wasn't my concern; if it had to be chopped down, I wouldn't even be here to notice the loss.

The watering can was kept in the fernery, underneath the overhead decking. When we'd moved in, that fernery had been an eyesore, just something you hurried through as quickly as possible to reach the terrace. Aunt Dorothy had done wonders to it. She'd cleared away all the weeds from the poor choked ferns, then hung trailing plants in baskets from the deck slats, things that liked shade. It looked lovely now, like a cave full of green stalactites. Dad had never had much patience with Aunt Dosh; she bored him. He didn't think she was interesting in any way, or had any views that were worth listening to. He hadn't let me visit her when she lived in the caravan park, before she moved in with Aunty Nat. Only losers ended up in caravan parks; he'd said so.

The watering can wasn't on its slab, under the tap. I stood amongst the ferns, my thoughts ticking along vaguely. The doves were calling to each other again down in the garden. I listened carefully, but it seemed to me that the messages weren't cheerful little gossipy messages at all; they sounded
mournful
. Phrases like, ‘They don't want you. You're last in the queue. Just room for two …'

Perhaps the watering can was down in the summerhouse, I thought, weaving back through the willow fronds. Aunt Dosh might have used it for the roses she'd planted around the base of the summerhouse specially for the wedding. She needn't have bothered, really. It was going to take place thousands of kilometres away now, with no ceremony or anything, no celebration. Dad and Piriel would be leaving straight afterwards to catch a plane to wherever they were going for their honeymoon. Dad didn't seem to mind about there being no guests or ceremony of any kind; he'd even left it up to me to decide if
I
wanted to be there or not. He'd said on the phone, ‘Marriage is really just something between the two people concerned.' Maybe he was right; he was usually right about things, just like Piriel. But when
I
got married, I thought suddenly, I'd want the aunts around. It would be
heartbreaking
if they weren't at my wedding; Aunty Nat, dabbing at her eyes with a lace hankie somewhere in the background, Aunt Dorothy spilling champagne on someone's good dress. Both the aunts, who'd always been there for me since I was born, loving me with no conditions attached, no conditions whatsoever.

I went down the steps of the terrace, trying not to listen to the sad little doves calling all around the garden. It seemed a pity that such a perfect garden wouldn't be the setting now for a wedding. Piriel and Dad didn't know what they were missing. All that work the aunts had done, getting everything so beautiful – it would be hard having to be the one to break the news to them. Perhaps I should start with Aunt Dorothy first, then we could tell Aunty Nat together. It might be easier that way. Aunt Dosh was always so peaceful, things never seemed as bad when she was around. She most definitely
wasn't
a loser; Dad was wrong about that.

The watering can wasn't in the summerhouse, nor was Aunt Dorothy. She wasn't anywhere in the back garden. I hesitated, then set off down the path that led to the creek, through the bush block that Piriel said Aunty Nat should sell. Piriel, I thought, had far too
many
opinions about what the aunts should or shouldn't do! It wasn't really any of her business, what they did with Avian Cottage or the land around it. Anyone would think she was the ice-lady, the way she tried to manipulate people, bend them to her will so that they caused the least amount of inconvenience to her own life …

I could hear the creek gurgling away to itself further down. It was really stupid, the way I hadn't bothered to explore this part of the garden yet. Aunt Dosh was always telling me how pretty it was, that I needn't be so scared of snakes, because she hadn't seen any at all. It
was
pretty, too. I could help rake up the dry stuff and burn it off, I thought. If Corrie Ryder and I
both
got stuck into it, we'd clear it all away in no time. You wouldn't need to feel nervous about snakes if Corrie was around; she wasn't scared of
anything
. In fact, if you were marooned on a desert island, Corrie would be excellent company.

Aunt Dosh was down by the creek. I could see the crown of her old straw hat with the red band tied around it. Dad, I remembered, grinning to myself, had once given her a very expensive pith helmet, because he couldn't stand the sight of that battered old hat she wore in summer. Aunt Dosh hadn't liked the new helmet. It was on the floor of her wardrobe, holding all the socks she meant to darn some time or other. I jumped down the last bit of steep path, then stopped, not going any further. I stayed right where I was, peering through the bushes. Aunt Dorothy was sitting under a tree, but she wasn't by herself. Ed Woodley was next to her. There was a heart carved in the bark of the tree, with initials inside it. They both looked very happy sitting under their initials, holding hands …