The Reef (5 page)

‘It's an international hotel chain. Surely that will open other doors down the track?' said Jennifer, hoping he wouldn't move overseas.

‘That's what I thought,' said Blair, grasping her arm and squeezing it. ‘So that's what I'm going to do. I reckon if I do well, I can go to their hotels in other parts of the world or look for opportunities in Europe.'

‘You're on your way, Blair. Just what you wanted. Good on you,' said Jennifer warmly. She meant it, but she could see Blair's star soaring out of her little hemisphere.

He sensed her mood. ‘Listen, this is good for other reasons. We can still see each other. You're nearly done with your degree . . . who knows what opportunities might come your way?'

She gave a brief smile. ‘Yeah. Who knows. But I don't think Europe is interested in what I'm doing. I'm looking at Aussie issues first . . .' she paused. ‘What happens here is just as important, even more so in some ways, as we can be a leader in conservation for the rest of the world. In some countries it's already too late.'

Blair nodded encouragingly but Jennifer knew he didn't really grasp what she was on about. He was into tourism, trendsetting lifestyles, food,
getting ahead to make money. Jennifer was beginning to sense that Blair's ambitions were in total conflict with her own studies. Their conversations about biodiversity, sustainability, conservation, the environment, disintegrated before they got heated as he wasn't interested and Jennifer felt she didn't know enough to convince him that tourism, development and a slash and burn approach to land and sea care were not viable in the long term.

He would laugh and tug her hair or tweak her nose. ‘You're sweet, a dreamer, an idealist too. Enjoy life, Jenny, that's my motto.'

Despite their ideological differences, they shared a good social life, a continuing physical attraction and, slowly, their personal histories. Blair was sympathetic about her childhood trauma of the loss of her father and brother. So he agreed to accompany Jennifer to Sunday lunch at Aunty Vi and Uncle Don's. To Jennifer, and to her aunt and uncle, Blair's willingness to step into her family circle represented a major shift in their relationship. That first lunch was couched as a casual social occasion, and, to Jennifer's surprise, Blair seemed genuinely to enjoy Don and Vi's company. He found Vi a bundle of laughs and loved the fact she was so interested in different cuisines.

Blair came with Jennifer on several more visits and also took them to various restaurants that Vi found stimulating. In fact, Vi and Blair bonded over the food, restaurants and cooking, leaving Jennifer and Don to talk about bird breeding, her studies and anything else that came to mind.
Jennifer was amused at Vi and Blair, their delving into the pantry or Vi's old cookbooks, only too happy that Blair was accepted. And she liked the idea of them being recognised as a couple.

Jennifer also talked to Blair about her mother living in Victoria. Blair's family was fractured and scattered, too, and he seemed to have little contact with them, although they all got on well when they did see each other, he told her. Blair liked the connection with Vi and Don. It held no obligations but gave him feedback from a different generation and class.

‘They're good people,' he told Jennifer. ‘Salt of the earth.'

Their relationship took a different turn when Blair started working at the hotel. He put in long hours and was distracted and fretted over incidents and people at work. They seemed trivial issues to Jennifer but she listened, and made comforting and understanding noises. Gradually he would let work go and enjoy himself.

They now had a regular group of friends, some living together, some married, and Jennifer felt life was settling into a routine that she quite liked, although she rarely mentioned her study and university work, and then only in passing. She still had the part-time job in the university library that gave her a little extra money.

Christmas came and they both decided to visit their families. Jennifer's train pulled into the station and she recognised most of the people getting off the train or waiting on the platform. As she
retrieved her bag, her mother came hurrying up to her.

‘Sorry, sorry. Damn bus was late. Was going to get a ride with a friend to the station but at the last minute her car wouldn't start. Hopeless, she is.' Christina embraced her daughter and took Jennifer's handbag so she could manage her small suitcase. Jennifer knew that as her mother chatted about changes around town, what neighbours were doing, what had happened in the past year, what they might do together, she was also taking in every minuscule detail of Jennifer's appearance: her new shoulder-length haircut, her professional but natural-looking make-up, her casual but smart clothes and expensive-looking shoes, and her chunky silver jewellery. The hesitant, pale girl had been replaced by a poised, capable and attractive young woman.

They caught a taxi home and her mother fingered Jennifer's handbag. ‘This is nice. Real leather, is it? Must have cost you a bit. I hope you're not frittering your money away, Jennifer. Do you save anything?'

‘Oh Mum, I don't fritter. I save up and get one good thing at a time at the sales or discount places. There are lots of bargains in a big city,' she laughed.

‘Yes, I suppose there are a lot of things in Sydney you can't get here in this little town. But it is your home, remember, Jennifer.'

‘Of course, Mum. Well, home is where you grow up, really. I think of the old farm as home. And that's not far from here anyway, is it?' added
Jennifer quickly, seeing her mother's mouth tighten at the mention of the farm.

The holidays dragged for Jennifer. It was a strain listening to the minutiae of her mother's life – the people she worked with who, in her mother's view, all seemed to be incompetent. The dreaded head librarian was still extremely difficult; the young girls were silly giggling twits or thought they knew everything and tried to boss her around now that they had computers.

‘Mum, do a computer course, it's the new way to go. Everyone is using them,' said Jennifer.

‘I suppose you have them at your university?'

‘Well, yes, in the library. I don't have a personal one, of course.' She didn't add that Uncle Don was planning to get one to organise his bird breeding program and had offered to let Jennifer use it too.

‘You'd be very surprised at who comes in to use ours,' confided her mother. ‘I can't imagine what some of the old ducks are doing. They sit there pecking away like . . .'

‘Old hens!' laughed Jennifer. ‘Maybe they're writing their life stories.'

‘Tosh. None of them has had an interesting life.' This launched her mother into stories of the health, family upheavals and financial doings of half the town. Jennifer winced. Christina had become the town gossip and seemed to know what everyone was up to. She also had the awful feeling that her mother probably passed on in minute detail every aspect of Jennifer's life.
Thank goodness she was judicious in what she told her. But what disturbed her most was her mother's negativity. She didn't seem to have anything nice to say about anyone or anything. Jennifer ignored her mother's barbed enquiries about her personal life, her friends and her future.

But after a week, she was burnt out. There was no reprieve from the onslaught of her mother's attentions. Christina had also taken holidays so they were together from first thing in the morning when her mother brought her a cup of tea far too early. Jennifer now drank coffee, Blair's influence, but suffered through her mother's breakfast, which she insisted on making with all the works, from the ironed tablecloth and serviettes, to the best plates, to the cereal, Vegemite, raspberry jam and butter dish all set out the night before. Sleepily, Jennifer confronted the array on the table as her mother bustled in the kitchen.

‘Here's some toast, butter it before it gets cold while I do the eggs. I bet you don't get food like this down there at that university canteen.'

Jennifer lifted the lid on the butter dish to find an oily liquid that had melted during the hot night. ‘No, that's for sure,' she thought to herself. She had fresh fruit, cafe au lait and a croissant, or else sprinted down to Crush for a delicate omelette, frittata or fruit concoction.

Her mother sat opposite her with a mug of tea and a cigarette. ‘Come on, eat up.'

‘Where's yours, Mum?'

‘Oh, I don't eat a big breakfast. A piece of toast does me.'

‘Then I wish you wouldn't go to all this trouble . . .'

‘Nonsense! I enjoy having my girl home. Now, what are we doing today?' asked her mother brightly.

Jennifer glanced at the kitchen clock and wished she was still in bed. ‘I don't know. It's too early to think about it.'

‘Goodness me, you can't waste time sleeping in.'

‘I
am
on holidays, Mum,' said Jennifer, more snappily than she meant to. ‘I don't know, do you have any plans?'

‘I never do anything, so what would I know? I never go out much. I work, come home and clean up. It's pretty quiet around here.'
Not like smart Sydney and all the fun things you get to do . . .
hung in the air unsaid.

‘I thought you told me you went to the club, and the pictures with Elaine. And what happened to the Bridge group?'

Her mother stubbed out her cigarette and gathered her dressing gown around her. ‘One time. That's all, Jennifer. And I don't go to the club very often. I can't afford it. And that Bridge group was very snippy. Complained about every bid and every card I played. I wasn't going to be treated like that.' She carried the ashtray and tea mug to the sink.

Jennifer spoke cautiously. ‘I thought I might
have a day out on my own today. Hire a bike, maybe head out to the old place, say hello to Mr Allen.'

‘What on earth for? Well, if you'd prefer to spend time with people you hardly knew when you were a child . . .' Christina flounced back into the bedroom.

Jennifer put her head in her hands. She'd take her mother to the pictures, then they wouldn't have to talk. Somehow she'd break the news that she had to go back to Sydney early. She'd think of a reason for cutting her holiday short.

Her mother stood beside her on the railway platform, radiating hurt and martyrdom. Jennifer glanced at her watch. Four minutes to go.

‘Won't you be lonely back up there? Surely everyone will still be away enjoying their holidays until classes start?'

‘No, Mum, there're always heaps of students around. Many can't afford to leave, or they get summer jobs. I'm hoping Blair can help me get a job in the local cafe, I'll make a lot more than in the library.'
Hell! It had just slipped out. Would her mother pick up on it?

Christina pounced, turning wide, interested eyes to Jennifer. ‘Blair? Who's Blair? Have you mentioned him before? A friend, is he? Or is he the owner of the cafe? Frankly, I don't think waitressing is a very ladylike job, Jennifer.'

‘It's a cutesy place that's very popular with the
uni crowd. You don't get a lot of tips as most people there are also poor students. But it's considered a good job.'

‘And this Blair, he works there?'

‘He was a chef, he's now assistant to the manager at a new hotel.'

‘I see. A cook. A good friend, is he?'

‘Ah yes, kind of. I have a lot of friends.'
Where's the damn train?

‘That's nice for you. But he's a special friend, I take it?' Her eyes hadn't left Jennifer's face, noting her discomfort.

‘Kind of. Well, yes. We go out a bit.'

‘So my daughter has a boyfriend. Well. I hope he's a nice boy, Jennifer, you know what I mean? From a nice family that teaches their son to respect girls.'

‘He's very nice. Don and Vi like him a lot.'
Oh hell!

‘They do, do they? They've met this boy and I've never even been told he exists. By my own daughter, or my brother and his wife.' There was a pitiful catch in her voice.

‘Mum, here comes the train. Look, don't be like that. No one thought to mention it because it's no big deal, there's nothing serious. I go out with lots of different people,' she lied quickly.

‘I suppose you want to go back early so you can see this person?'

She hugged her mother. ‘No, he's away with his family. Thanks for a wonderful time. I'll phone you tomorrow night. I'll try to come again at Easter.
Bye, Mum.' She grabbed her suitcase and bundled it into the carriage.

As Jennifer sank into her seat the train moved forward, passing the figure of her mother with shoulders slumped, head down, as she trudged, so sadly, along the platform. Furiously Jennifer slammed her handbag under her seat.

Blair wasn't due back for another week. Despite what Jennifer had told her mother, all her usual haunts were half empty or filled with tourists. She decided to go down to Circular Quay for brunch. Blair had told her of a little outdoor place near the hotel where he worked.

When she got there she was shocked to see Blair sitting at a table under an umbrella with a girl and two other men. She stopped, embarrassed, but it was too late to turn away. He leapt to his feet.

‘Jenny! Hey! Come here.'

Shyly, she joined the group and was surprised when Blair hugged her effusively. ‘Why didn't you tell me you were coming back early?'

‘You told me you'd be up north for another week or more,' she said lightly.

‘Touché, Blair . . . you'd better confess,' laughed one of the boys.

Blair looked sheepish. ‘Pranged my brother's motorbike, had a row with my dad and my mother threatened to walk out, so I was stuck with cooking for fifteen people. Bugger that. I had an urgent call
to come back to work,' he laughed. ‘And these are some of my work mates. This is Jennifer who I was telling you about.' He pulled her down next to him. ‘Let's order a bottle of wine to celebrate.' He kissed her cheek. ‘How come you're back early too?'