THAT WOULD BE ME - serialisation of chick lit (if you must) novel of neo colonialism and identity

THAT WOULD BE ME

Chapter Three

in which our heroine strengthens her grip on her new world and begins to crystallise a new identity

She opened the wardrobe to put her dress away. Therese had been through it. She supposed it was inevitable but she had only been there two days. Oh well. She would have to remember to be careful. The only thing was the bank account she had just opened ... She was too tired. She fell asleep thinking she must get another dress for the restaurant.

Therese was smoking and sipping at a mug of tea in front of the t v when she came into the lounge room.

'Good morning.'

Therese nodded and returned her attention to the t v and her cigarette.

She rejoined her with tea and toast.

A woman in L A was reporting about film stars.

'Isn't she gorgeous? The Americans certainly know how to do make-up and hair. Oh look at her dress, the hem lines are up again. Any time you want me to go through your wardrobe we could get out your sewing machine and I could help you take up your hems, Therese.' She was stabbed with anxiety as she said it. It had been completely unpremeditated. She froze in horror.

Therese gaped. And glanced back at the screen.

'You could help me with mine - not that I have ... I've only got one good dress.'

'I only bother about a few. I don't know why I don't throw the others out - give them to St Vincent de Paul. There's a stall with second hand things down near the church, if you're interested.'

She said she knew the stall.

'That's lovely. You've got really lovely taste.' She felt she could do better than that. Therese's taste was not lovely, it was ordinary to garish. They were standing in front of Therese's wardrobe examining her clothes.

She pinned up two hems while Therese stood patiently in the sunroom.

They got the sewing machine out of the back of Therese's wardrobe, set it up in the sunroom, decided Therese would need to go into town to get some matching thread for one. But she could see what they had at work, she'd just snip a tiny bit from the linings to match.

She said good-bye to Therese and set out for 'uni'.

She did indeed go to 'uni'. She went to the university library and began reading through the handbook again. She had settled on Bachelor of Arts in Communication (Media Arts and Production). she would concentrate on multimedia and perhaps video. It was composed of a cultural studies strand and a professional strand. She chose a subject called Power and Change in Australia and sought out some of the required texts. She skimmed, settling on sections which arrested her attention. It was quite interesting. She had no idea Australia was like that.

Then she wandered around, ending in the cafeteria, looking and listening to the students. Same/different, she thought. She wouldn't sound like that one, oh no. She would have to go to a lecture to see what the Communications students were like, what they wore.

She would have to get that thread for Therese's dresses and where could she get some material and a pattern to make her own dress?

She settled with another book at a table where a number of girls were discussing an assignment. They were nurses. During a pause she asked their advice, explaining she had just arrived from the U K. One of them suggested a place. And then said she'd show her if she liked to wait a bit, they just had to work out what they were doing in this group work thing.

They went into town together and the girl said she'd come with her.

'Australians are so friendly.'

'I'm not Australian, I'm a Cook Islander, except I've never been to the Cook Islands. I was brought up in Auckland and then we moved to Australia. I'm going one day, though.'

They looked at the fabrics together and then some patterns. She bought a pattern. Beverley said she thought you could get really good fabrics at Cabramatta where the Vietnamese were. 'Do you know where that is?'

They were going to go together and have a fantastic lunch on Thursday. 'My friend knows the best restaurant. She was the one with her hair tied on top of her head with that lily. Minh. She's gorgeous. She'll come with us.

As they parted, Beverley taught her to say kia orana.

She had forgotten the treads for Therese’s hems.

Cabramatta was a Vietnamese town evolved from Sydney suburbia. Minh took over. They would go to this restaurant for lunch. They would have prawns on sugar cane, specialty. They had Vietnamese beer. Beverley told her about the university. She was married and lived in Homebush, she must come with her and her husband to the Flemington markets. Minh was going to become a physiotherapist, nursing was a step on the way. Beverley had always wanted to be a nurse.

She found herself telling them that she had decided to do Communications at the university because she wanted to develop education methods online so that people in the Pacific and Southeast Asia could have access to ... and she had broken up with her boyfriend so she came out early to enrol and see about a job and somewhere to live - to get used to living in a foreign place, she hadn't been away from home much and she didn't have any relatives out here, she didn't have many relatives in any case. She had a job in a Japanese restaurant. She was about to say 'in the kitchen' when she realised the beer had got to her and why complicate? Things were already too complicated with Therese. Complication was stressful.

Beverley said she would be her family.

'I'm worried about my visa.'

After a discussion Beverley and Minh fell thoughtful. Visas were a constant issue for overseas students.

'Don't worry, you speak very good - perfect, perfect English, you are way ahead. Speak English, have a job, way ahead. Get married to Australian boy, no problems.'

Beverley nodded solemnly.

Minh had no doubts about the fabric shop they should go to, smiling and greeting the owners as they entered. She became authoritative, would only countenance silk.

'They all wear silk, they want me to be Australian.'

'You're not Australian, you’re English.'

'Yes but not for long. The Japanese can't tell the difference. Cotton. They want me to be different, simpler. It's much easier to sew.'

None of the cottons seemed right to Minh.

She settled on a very fine wool, ignoring the looks Beverley and Minh exchanged when they were told the price.

On the way back into town she realised her pattern wouldn't do so she got off at Town Hall and bought another as well as the threads for Therese's hems.

It was to be a dark blue dress with a small jacket. She knew the jacket would push her sewing skills to their limits.

Therese was asleep in front of the television when she got home, a glass beside her and a bottle of gin.

She set to work. She sewed Therese's hems first. Shook the dresses out and hung them in the bathroom. Then she laid the pattern out on the sunroom floor. She could not begin cutting. The fabric had cost so much, she should have got another metre but had been intimidated by Beverley and Minh's disapproval of what she was paying. There was no room for error. Suddenly she dismissed her doubts and began.

She had nearly finished cutting out the dress when she heard Therese stirring. 'I'm home,' she called, 'I'm in here. I've finished your dresses.' After a while she heard a cigarette being lit. She felt very apprehensive. She got up and entered the lounge. Therese was slumped in the lounge, cigarette dangling between her fingers, eyes closed. She opened them and looked startled.

'Hi. I hung your dresses in the bathroom, they're finished.'

After a while Therese nodded.

'How was your day?'

'Pretty good,' Therese said and then coughed to clear her throat. 'Just having a relax in front of the tele. I'll get a cup of tea in a moment.'

She hesitated over offering to make one for Therese but some instinct prompted her not to. 'Do you want to try the dresses on?'

'In a minute.' Therese focused on the TV.

So she went back to her cutting out.

She was contemplating the jacket when she heard Therese stirring from her chair. She stood up and turned. Therese was looking at the material pinned to the pattern strewn about the floor.

'You won't be able to leave that there. What a mess.'

'I won't be leaving it there. I'll hang it in my wardrobe when I've finished cutting it out.'

Therese thought about this. 'I don't want that machine left out. I've been thinking about you, where was it you said you worked?'

'Camperdown.'

'You should use their machines. What's the name of the place?'

'It doesn't have a name, it's a small workshop. I mightn't be working there much longer, I'm going out tonight to try out in a restaurant.' She began gathering the material together to hide her distress. Then she turned, 'Therese, your dresses are hanging in the bathroom. When you've tried them on we can put the machine back if they're right. I didn't realise ... You did say I could use the machine. It's only been out one day.'

'Well I've been thinking about it.'  Therese went back to her chair.

She could hear a drink being poured.

Therese was focused on the TV as she carried the pieces of the garments into her room.

She closed the door and shook. She shook violently and could not stop. She struggled to get some sort of control. She had to deal with things. She grabbed up her bag and opened the door. Therese looked up as she walked through and out of the flat.

She walked to the round about at the end of the road. She descended into the park and set out to walk right around it. She looked at the hundreds of yachts and launches moored in the marina. She continued walking past the yacht club. There was the woman who had told her Nicole Kidman lived here. 'And how is Stella today?' she asked as they were about to pass and stooped to look into Stella's brown eyes. Stella wagged her tail.

Stella had had a bit of a cold, that was why she was wearing her coat even though there was no wind. She admired the coat and told the woman where she lived. The woman pointed out a block of flats she had lived in a long time ago before she was married. 'It's changing,' she said, 'they're squashing places in where you wouldn't believe they could. Everyone wants to live in the city these days. It used to be for interesting people, now they get their kids off their hands and they want to move in from those suburbs. You can't blame them.'

She reached the point and gazed down the harbour. The sunlight striped the hills on the North Shore with a deep comforting green scattered with the glowing of red roof tiles. Below her the gold light struck bars of emerald in the water. She could feel the fading sun bringing life back into her shocked face. She wanted a cup of tea desperately.

She was about to go into the cafe when she determined she would save money so she went into the corner shop instead and bought teabags and milk. She hesitated over and rejected biscuits. She could have something to eat at the restaurant.

Therese shifted in agitation when she walked in.

'I'm making a cup of tea. Would you like one?'

'No. Thanks ... Yes, that might be nice. Get me ready for dinner.'

She sat down with Therese and they sipped their tea in silence.

'What's it like out?'

'Lovely. The wind's dropped.'

'It'll soon be summer.'

When she had finished her tea she got up. 'Finished?' she said to Therese, holding out her hand for the mug.

'What? Oh. Not quite.' Therese took a gulp of the barely touched tea.

She got ready for work. On her way through the lounge room she said, 'Wish me luck.'

'What for?'

'This new job. In the restaurant.'

'Oh. Good luck.'

She felt more than dejected. She could barely touch the plate of morsels the chef offered her. How could she perform for the customers?

The whisky glowed in front of her. She was getting really desperate. If only it were sake, she thought, taking a sip. Ugh. She couldn't bear whisky. Then she noticed the avidity with which the table host responded to her sip. She took another sip and said, 'Very good whisky. I have not had a very successful day so I am hoping it might brighten me up.'

'Have a go mate,' the Japanese man said and his guests looked admiringly and then at her, smiling.

'You bet I will, mate.' The roughness of her Australian accent thrilled her.

The host almost sprang back. Then, 'Ahhhh,' he sighed with delight.

There were murmurs and a ripple of applause.

She noticed Mr Iriye observing.

'You've got to keep those kangaroos tied down.'

'Too bloody right.'

She burst out laughing at this and clinked his glass.

Everyone was most happy.

She escaped to the next table and managed some more whisky. She could see why people drank it. Poor old fucking Therese and her cold perfumed gin.

At the end of the night Mr Iriye sent Michiyo to her. 'Mr Chiaki san would like you to have a drink with him.'

She was aware of Mr Iriye watching for her reaction.

'Tonight? Not tonight ... I don't think.' Her mind raced on - what if she had to move out, she should really buy a sewing machine, that fucking Therese, she couldn't stand it, what would it be worth? what would she have to do? 'Perhaps another night,' she said. 'Would you please tell Mr ... what's his name? I am too tired tonight. I have to ... What would a Japanese girl say, Michiyo?'

'Um, sister sick, has to go home to look after her.'

'I'll do it, I'll tell Chaiki san myself.'

Michiyo stopped her. And she noticed Mr Iriye moving off to deal with Mr Chiaki.

It was perhaps a good thing because Mr Kakaburi turned up.

She asked him to sit down and would he mind waiting while she said good night to Mr Iriye.

Mr Iriye handed her her envelope with a new grave searching look.

What did it mean?

'I'm drunk on all the whisky,' she whispered to Michiyo, 'please come with us.'

Mr Kakaburi didn't seem to mind. They went to an expensive hotel and had a relaxing time. Mr Kakaburi told her she should sell her property and buy shares.

'What shares?' she asked.

He wrote some down for her.

'Which ones are Australian?'

He looked puzzled and then inspired and wrote down some more names for her.

He dropped Michiyo off at the hostel and then took her to her new home.

'Thank you,' she said, 'I really needed that. And thank you for the stock market tips.' She touched the back of his hands and was gone.

Therese's flat was silent and reeked of cigarette smoke. A  note declared itself in the immaculate lounge room -Will you be here on Sunday? Kath is coming.

After considering the implications of this, she carefully printed underneath Therese's intermittently controlled writing Would love to meet Kath. I got the job!

She opened Mr Iriye's envelope in her room. Mr Chiaki or someone must have been very pleased. She would see how many of Mr Kakaburi's shares she could buy with what she made tomorrow and Saturday and then she would go back to building up her bank account. Sunday could look after itself. Tomorrow she would check the hostel for any mail and get a post office box at Potts Point, she would go out to the university and read some more books and find out how you buy shares ... Therese did not really matter, she could always move into another hostel for a while. All she had to lose was the reek of cigarette smoke. It was disgusting. It was a good thing so many of the Japanese smoked. She hoped Mr Kakaburi couldn't smell it, he was so immaculate himself.

Therese was waiting for her when she made her way to the bathroom in the morning, upright with a mug of tea on the table beside her lounge chair. 'Good morning.'

'Good morning Therese.' She kept going. Her anxiety had given way to anger. If Therese wanted her out, O K. She'd get her money back and let Therese know she wouldn't get anyone better - or probably anyone at all - to help her pay for the fire order renovations.

She made straight for her bedroom but Therese spoke. 'So you'll be here to meet Kath on Sunday?'

'What time Therese?'

'Lunch time. I said to come at twelve. I'll make some sandwiches. I'm going in to D J's to get some decent bread. I'll freeze it. We'll probably have a glass of wine, Kath always brings a bottle. She's like that. She's a real good friend. We've known one another since the Delprado and Hunt days.'

 She smiled and kept going.

Therese was getting ready to go out herself when she left. She didn't bother to call out good-bye.

While she was in the post office organising a post box she noticed they sold mobile phones. She bought one. As far as she knew, Therese's was left unused for months on end – she could see problems over splitting bills - and she wanted to be able to make calls without Therese listening. Then she went to the university.

On the way she bought a paper.

She couldn't see Minh or Beverley. She dabbled in some more of the recommended reading for her Information Sciences course, lifting her eyes when her brain had started to go leaden to think about what she would do. She couldn't hide out here every day avoiding Therese and pretending, there were months to go until she could really begin her course. She couldn't wander around town all day. And what was she going to do with the cut out material hanging and lying in her wardrobe? Could she hire a machine somewhere? Minh might know someone. She flicked through the paper to Employment - not much. Here was one for a machinist. What if she went back out to Cabramatta and asked in the fabric shop?

She told the girl sitting next to her in the students' cafeteria that she had to get a job and the only skill she had was dressmaking. The girl said to see a counsellor, they might be able to help and get one of Saturday's papers, they have all the jobs in them.

She told the librarian she had forgotten her card, all she had was her passport ... could she borrow last Saturday's ... she'd sit just here. The librarian pointed to a pile of newspapers.

There were three likelies.

She got out her phone. This was her first mobile phone. It wasn't the exquisite hi tech masterpiece Michiyo used but it was rather pretty. She went outside and rang. When she had clicked off from the first call she was in love with it. It gave her confidence, it made her feel secure. The second caller wanted the work done at home on your own machine. She ended with two appointments for Monday. She wanted to rest now.

Therese, flanked by gin and facing the TV, was surprised to see her. 'You're in early.'

'Yes,' she replied, fighting down an urge to say a lecture was cancelled, she had no lectures on Friday afternoon, she felt sick ... 'I have to have a rest before my new job. At the restaurant. How was your shopping?'

'Good. When you've got a moment we should have a chat.'

In her room she fought down a tumult of attitudes, responses, approaches, modus operandi.

'I'm making some tea, would you like some?'

Therese said she'd just had some - late lunch.

She sat down in the other lounge chair and focused on the TV. It was a chat show. She wanted to laugh.

Therese cleared her throat. 'Kath thought it would be a good idea if we talked about expenses.'

She smiled and nodded encouragingly.

A little cough. 'The phone.'

'I have a mobile, Therese. You can borrow it if you're going out somewhere and ... '

'The gas and the electricity.'

'My understanding was that we were going to share expenses, Therese. I'll pay half the power bills.'

'I just thought ... You mightn't be here as often as ... as much as I ... I thought you said you'd be out a lot.'

'I do have uni and a job. I've got to feel at home though, as though I can come in and - come and go as I please.'

'You can, I didn't mean ...'

'Therese, I can't live like a mouse, you know. I am paying rent, the sum we agreed on. I've paid you a bond and a month in advance.'

'I know. Kath just thought I should make things clear.'

'I thought things were. What did Kath want to know?'

'Nothing. It's got nothing to do with her. I suppose. She likes to be involved.'

'I'm looking forward to meeting your friend.' She made the word the mildest innuendo.

It worked, Therese broke into a babble - they had been the legal secretaries at Delprado and Hunt, they used to go out on Friday night with the sailing club boys after Kath got her divorce and if they had to work late they would go for a curry at India Down Under it used to be just up the road here Kath used to love it and she'd helped Kath find a flat to buy here once her divorce came through - she did well out of that, the flat, I mean when she sold it when she married Mort. She was wonderful to me when I was sick one time, used to come and visit me nearly every day in the hospital, I don't know how I ...

'She sounds like a real good friend.'

'She is, she is. The best friend I ever had, like a sister to me - better than a ... '

After a decent interval she said she'd just go and lie down now before going out to her new job. In the restaurant. 'It's Japanese. In town.'

As she was crossing the lounge Therese said, 'The machine's there for when you want to use it.'

She turned. 'I don't Therese, I have access to an industrial one at my other part time job. I'll help you put it away when you're ready.'

Therese met her with blazing eyes as she was leaving. 'No need,' she said as soon as she appeared, 'Kath will help me with that. On Sunday.' And then her eyes fell.

The restaurant was very busy. She brooded on ways of getting the whisky replaced with cold tea as she made Australian conversation with the customers. She was also picking up some Japanese phrases. They were useful for dropping from levity to a more formal tone to terminate her time with the customers. Mr Chiaki's whisky had left her with a taste for its powers. Thank god she didn't have to gulp it down like some cowgirl in a saloon; it was her role to be coarse to a degree but the occasional sip was all that was required.

She had to stop thinking about it, just do it, play it as it fell. It was a miracle of a job, she wasn't going to muck it up.

She noticed Michiyo's eyes harden a little when Mr Kakaburi told them Mr Yamada couldn't come out with them. She suggested they all go out dancing together.

Despite the queue of young people outside they were welcomed in immediately.

They took to the dance floor straight away. Michiyo seemed to forget her disappointment in the pleasure of dancing. Mr Kakaburi certainly loved dancing.

In the Ladies she told Michiyo she was tired, she had to go home, she had a big day tomorrow with the woman who owned the flat and she wanted to be fresh, she felt as if she was worn out. As she said this she felt a strong pull of fatigue. It had all been too much. She needed to rest. It had all been a great rush since she had fled Lynton in Cairns, she needed to go slow and consolidate now. What was she doing? This was mad.

She made her excuses to Mr Kakaburi but it was so loud in the pulsing, strobed club they had to go outside. She begged Michiyo to stay with Mr Kakaburi and go on dancing. She suggested to Mr Kakaburi they meet on Sunday at five in town, they could go to a film or just have coffee. She was very tired now, she had to go back to her flat.

Therese had refused offers of assistance in arranging the lunch but had taken advantage of the opportunity to ask for a hand to get the sewing machine back into her wardrobe. She had fussed in the kitchen and over the dining table for a couple of hours, there were flowers, the windows had been flung open

She felt underdressed in her skirt and blouse when Therese appeared in a self-belted floral frock wrapped in an elaborately impractical, highly decorative pinny. Her hands shook pitifully.

'Kath, this is Michelle.'

Kath was a presence, bright fabric stretched smartly across her billowing volume, matching shoes and bag, very done hair, very made-up face. The suggestion of genuine taste and a glint of humour saved her from looking like a retired madam.

Therese made off with Kath's bottle of wine after her friend had settled herself on the couch.

'So, Michelle, tell me about you,' Kath began after her first sip of wine in its crystal glass.

Michelle said she had come out from England to study Journalism at the university here in Sydney and had got sick of student digs so when she had seen Therese's ad ... '

A plate was clattered on the table.

'I believe - Therese told me you used to live here, in this area.'

'Down the road, Therese helped me find the place - Didn't you Treesie? I'm just telling Michelle how I used to live down the road. In 'Cambridge'?'

'Oh, Cambridge.'

'Do you know which one that is?'

'I've never been there. I've heard it's very lovely, the river and the colleges.'

'No! you silly goose, not Cambridge, 'the Cambridge', the house, the building, it's down near the cul de sac. That's where my flat was, the one Treesie helped me find. It needed a few things doing, I wasn't having that kitchen, not that I cook much, and while they were in I had the old bathroom ripped out.'

Therese called them to the table.

Therese was contemplating her table. She came out of her trance to tell them where to sit. Then she swept aside a net throw to reveal her art. It twinkled and shone, a posy sallied out of a silver horn in ferny fronds framing delicate shapes of pink and white and red. Their damask napkins where rolled in heavy silver rings. The plates were edged with heavy madder and gold. In the middle was a huge glass platter which radiated little triangles and rolls of brown and white bread interspersed and surrounded with tiny sprigs of parsley, radish roses and tissues of lemon.

She gaped. It was truly astonishing. Who would have guessed Therese carried this within, this delicacy and application? It was a past era, at once more refined and elaborate, more careful and innocent than any she had been in touch with.

'Therese is famous for her sandwiches. These look beautiful Treesie! We girls used to look forward to them every birthday and thing in the office, didn't we Treesie?'

Treesie nodded and indicated that Michelle should help herself. 'If there's anything you don't like just leave it.'

They were fragrant and various - asparagus, crab and cucumber, ham with an edge of mustard, liverwurst, tomato and cheese, salmon, egg, celery, lettuce shredded infinitesimally.

'Oh Therese, these are really special. Where did you learn to make them like this?'

'My grandmother, dad's mother. A better person never trod the earth.' She raised her glass.

Kath's wine was crisp. She complimented her on it, said she was very interested in Australian wines.

'Kath knows a lot about wine.'

'Too right! Mort and I like a drop. He's the real expert.'

She actually began to enjoy herself. She told Kath that her father was a doctor and her mother had been a real estate agent before she got married. She had one sister who was younger, still at school. She missed them but she loved Australia, she didn't know how she was going to go back at the end of her course.

'When's that?'

'I've got three more years to do, I'm doing honours.'

'And they make you go back at the end of it?'

'Yes. I'm afraid so.'

'You'll have to find a nice Australian boy. Treese and I will keep an eye out for you, won't we Treesie?'

Treesie nodded. She had nibbled at a few sandwiches and drunk some wine, her hands were now subdued to a tremor.

They adjourned for coffee and Therese produced petit fours.

Kath squealed and popped two on the little silver platter Therese had placed on the coffee table with the coffee cups. 'I love the mocha walnut ones! And the pistachio. Let's face it, I love them all.' She laughed again. 'Remember those chocolate things we used to buy on Saturdays when we weren't going out? We'd have them for a late supper.' She explained. 'They're from the Croissant d'Or up the road. Have you discovered that?'

She said she could hardly wait.

'Therese tells me you sew.'

Therese shifted uneasily in her chair.

'Yes. It's ... I learnt at school and now I've got a part time job sewing garments up - you know, sleeves on, that sort of thing. It's pretty boring, piece work but I've got a new - '

'Therese said you sewed her hems up beautifully.'

'Oh, hems are easy.'

'I'll have to get you to do some of mine.'

There was an uneasy silence.

'They can make an outfit look dowdy - that's why they do it of course, shift the hems up and down. The bastards.' Kath brayed a laugh.

She smiled at Kath, shifted her smile to Therese who smiled tightly and nodded encouragingly.

'Actually, I was telling Therese, I've just got a new job. In a Japanese restaurant. In town. It's all at night so ... I'm waiting. I was getting a bit sick of the garment work. But I still want to keep a hand in there. I've got some work I want to finish for myself.'

Therese propped herself on her legs and tottered towards the room's most distinguished feature, an art deco sideboard. From it she extracted liqueur glasses and then a bottle. 'For when we're ready.'

'The Drambuie. I wouldn't mind a bit with some more coffee, dear. Treesie knows me too well.'

The Drambuie was good.

'I love living here, I've always - since I came to Australia - at first when I got off the plane I was in one of those backpacker places ... then I moved in with Aunty Winnie - she's Dad's older brother's wife, he's dead, in Summer Hill. But when I was in the backpacker's to be with these girls I met on the plane I walked down here and knew that's where I'd really like to live. I had to - '

'Yes. I loved it when I was here. It really suited me after I left Gus, my first husband - ' She mimed tippling and then recollected herself. 'The bastard. Oh he had his points, I suppose. I must have married him for some reason. Can't remember what it was though.' She barked her hard laugh. 'Treesie helped me to find this lovely place down in 'the Cambridge'. We had a lot of fun, didn't we Treesie? Remember old Mr Trenbath?'

They hooted. And Therese had to light a cigarette. At which Kath frowned and started to fan the smoke away.

'He was always trying to get us to go out with him. He must've been seventy if he was a minute.'

'Oh I don't think he was that old,' Therese said.

'The dirty old dog!'

'What's this place called? I've never noticed.'

'Longleat'.'

'Longleat?' She was astonished. Then she wanted to laugh.

'It's some castle in England, or something. So old Lady Tierney told me.'

'Have you met her? She lives on the top floor here. I used to run into her all the time when I lived around here. Husband made his money in ducting - you know, those pipe things they use in air conditioning.'

'They were always in the Sunday papers.'

'Oh Treese, you know he was always dragging her off to those charity things. She wouldn't say boo to a goose and she never dressed up. Wouldn't know how. I remember one time - '

'She's the one from the old family, he got his start in the war, like a lot of them.'

She decided she would see them through this and then make her escape.

Kath glared at Treese until she had finished and turned to her. 'It was in the papers.'

'It was the Women's Weekly.'

'They were showing photos of the women at the Caulfield Cup. You know how they say 'here's Mrs So and So, she wearing silk taffeta and a hat by Freddie Fairy? Well they had old Lady Tierney and they wrote 'in a cotton shift.' Kath barked at length. 'Can you imagine? I'd have died. I wonder what the old fella said to her? I bet there was a blue. Can you imagine?' she demanded again of her.

She shook her head.

'She's not interested in clothes,' Therese said and got to her feet.

As Therese made her way towards the bathroom Kath called after her, 'What is she interested in? What does she do all day up there in that big place? She's got help, she doesn't even cook. One day she told me she didn't know how, she buys everything already ... ' She turned to Michelle and rolled her eyes. Then she lifted her hand and inclined her head as if checking to see if there was any possibility of them being overheard, 'How are you getting on?'

She was surprised. 'Well. I think we're getting on well. It's an arrangement that should suit - '

'You're a godsend. I can see that. You've already done her ... I'll tell her she's lucky to have you.' She groped for her bag beside her on the floor  and brought out a wallet from which she extracted a card which she held out by a tip between two fingers.

She had to get up and walk across to get it.

'Give me a ring,' she mouthed.

They were composed when Therese reappeared, herself composed. 'Would anyone like more coffee?' she asked, poised half way between the kitchen and her chair.

They didn't but she rose and said she had to get ready. It had been lovely. She was meeting some friends. And began to clear the table.

'Oh leave it,' Therese said, 'I like doing it.'

'She does.'

When she reappeared from her bedroom it was evident that the two were deeply ensconced in Drambuie.

'Don't you look lovely. Doesn't she Treese?'

She went over and stood in front of Kath. 'It's been lovely meeting you, I've heard so ... ' She held out her hand.

'You'll have to come over. What sort of a sailor are you? Mort's got a boat. The only way to see Sydney.'

She went over and bent toward Therese who after a moment's doubt lifted up her cheek.

It was like kissing a turkish delight.

On the way down the front steps she felt the thrill of success. At the bottom she turned and looked back up. Yes, there in painted-over lettering was 'Longleat'. She turned and there was a cab. She hailed it and slid gracefully in. When they had started off she started to laugh. 'I'm sorry,' she said to the driver, 'someone said something very funny. I can't believe it. Have you been in Australia long?'

Mr Kakaburi wanted to play some games in a video parlour so she shot some people with him. She concentrated on the corners as they raced cars virtually and indicated her impatience when he wanted to go back to shooting, however she persuaded him to dance on the moving light. A little crowd gathered to watch. As he was very good, they clapped. He was very happy. She wondered if he was coked.

They saw a film which she tried to explain to him over dinner.

'How do you buy shares in Australia?' she asked.

He was pleased she was taking his advice.

His skin shone in the lights of the restaurant and the red neon outside cast fascinating lights in his wonderful black hair. She decided she wanted to look at his body again.

It was pale and hard and sleek, it felt smooth. Her skin lapped it up. His slightly acrid smell kept her satisfyingly distant. He was careful and kept looking at her to see if he was doing anything wrong. She found herself desperately wanting to laugh as she had in the taxi. She flushed with power and let herself go, surrender, guide, wriggle and writhe into pleasure. She came. He came and held her tight. She could feel he was very pleased. Then she decided to leave a little before she ought to. She put on her underwear in front of him, left the room to complete her dressing, passed through to the bathroom and emerged groomed, stood there waiting.

'Huh?'

'Australian boyfriend takes girlfriend to taxi.'

He scrambled out of bed.

He stood with an arm around her on the street.

She refused money for the taxi.

He looked very happy as she waved.

Therese had reduced her lunch to nothingness.

She wondered what she had done with the flowers.

The wine bottle stood at attention next to the immaculate kitchen tidy.

'Thank you for the lunch, it was beautiful,' she said to Therese the next morning, 'those wonderful sandwiches ... '

'I should do it more often.' Therese lifted her head and breathed in at the memory of her success. 'What did you think of our Katherine?'

'Oh very nice. Very smart.'

'She's that all right, no flies on her. She put away most of my bottle of Drambuie that I got. Still I keep it for her, she's been a good friend.'

'Does she sew?' Why did she have to go and say that? Couldn't she have just kept quiet? 'I mean that suit she was wearing would have cost a fortune in the shops.'

'Mort's more than comfortable. I don't think Kath would've married him if ... She's got no time for no-hopers.'

'I gathered she wasn't short of a quid.' She had overheard this expression on the bus which serviced the area. The woman who had used it had seemed Therese's type. She tried not to scan Therese to gauge her reaction. A woman on the TV was demonstrating a recipe. 'I don't care for fish with sauce,' she said. Then when there was no response, 'Do you?'

'Never had it. Kath goes in for that sort of thing these days. No wonder she's ... She's never been slim.'

'She looked - '

'Men seem to - some men seem to go for the fuller figure.'

Had she really said that? She wanted to laugh. This was good, she was really enjoying Australians. Then she remembered the fabrication she had given Therese and Kath about her circumstances and panicked thinking she should have made notes about it last night - what exactly had she told them?

Therese seemed to be enjoying their talk too because when she attempted to rise she broke the silence with, 'Yes, you've got to admire her, she comes from nothing, she'll tell you so herself - or she used to tell everyone, I'm not so sure these days, Mort's a bit fussy - I wouldn't call him a snob but ... I don't suppose everyone has to know everything about you.'

This time she did stop herself from talking. The woman on the TV was deveining the most enormous prawns. She noted how it was done.

'She can be a bit common. You might have noticed.'

She shook her head.

'Oh she does that stupid coughing thing - like this,' Therese hacked deeply into a tubed fist, 'whenever anyone tries to have a cigarette. Stupid. Calling attention to herself like that. No need.'

She nodded.

'She said she'd ring you about her dresses but don't do it unless you feel like it. She meant it about going out in Mort's boat though, she means what she says, never lets you down. She's been a good friend.'

She resolved to ring Kath on Thursday.

She glanced at the first factory and knew she wouldn't work there but went through with the interview.

The second excited her. It was in the garment district in Surry Hills. It was convenient to the university. The clothes being machined were very bright and fashionable. No-one looked Anglo. Everyone seemed happy and expansive. She felt a Latin rhythm twitching in her ankles, she wanted to dance the samba, the rhumba, to cha cha.

The man in charge said he would try her out. Piece work, ten to four, some overtime when they had a rush on. What was her tax file number?

She said she'd forgotten it but would bring it with her tomorrow.

She walked away thinking about the colour of the print on the introduction cards she was going to have made - just her name and mobile number. Was that madder on Therese's good plates too serious?

That night when she closed her eyes a vision of Lynton's chest seemed to become Mr Kakaburi's. She started to cry wondering about Lynton.