narratorAUSTRALIA Volume Two

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  Clusters of guests dressed in smart casual attire and holding champagne flutes stood about the velvety green lawn. The large garden was bordered by a neatly clipped hedge. Roses and lavender grew abundantly. June caught a glimpse of a shimmering swimming pool at the side of the elegant two-storey house.

  ‘Jeez,’ exclaimed Gary, ‘I’d hate to have to mow this lot.’

  ‘Oh, Gaz, I’m sure Fliss and her hubby hire a gardener to take care of it.’

  At that moment Fliss floated towards them, peering myopically. She was dressed, or rather overdressed, for the warm temperature, in a flowing white silk gown with bat-wing sleeves. Elaborate gold jewellery adorned her ears, neck and slender wrists.

  June was treated to a dainty air kiss – mwaw, mwaw. Fliss’s cloying perfume made June’s eyes water.

  ‘So glad you could come, June darling.’

  She flicked her large green eyes over Gary.

  ‘Fliss, this is my husband, Gary.’

  Gary stuck out his large tanned hand which was ignored. Fliss flapped her own well-manicured hand towards a spacious pagoda-shaped marquee. ‘Do grab some champers, darlings.’

  June stared at Fliss’s grey nail polish.

  ‘A beer would hit the spot,’ Gary said to Fliss’s slender departing back.

  ‘Must mingle. Lovely to meet you, Gareth,’ she called over her shoulder, waggling her fingers.

  ‘It’s Gary,’ said June and Gary in unison.

  Fliss’s eleven-year-old son, Nigel, waved a tray of canapés in their direction. He was dressed in a waiter’s uniform and his hair was slicked down onto his pale forehead.

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ said Gary taking a handful of fish balls and gulping them down in one go. He reckoned if the supper was going to be light he should eat up. ‘They paying you for this, sport? Seems like child labour to me.’

  ‘Mummy’s buying me the latest iPad for doing it,’ Nigel said politely.

  ‘Sweet,’ replied Gary. He crossed his eyes at June. June giggled and turned away. They moved towards the drinks table, Gary grumbling good-naturedly about the absence of beer.

  As they stood gawking at the splendour of the Fortescue-Lamb mansion, June felt a rustle like dried leaves near her left elbow. A combined waft of attar of roses and tinned cat food assailed her nostrils.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Biddle,’ said June, gazing down into a wrinkled little face and eager bright blue eyes.

  ‘Hello, dear. How’s that girl-boy friend of yours?

  June looked momentarily puzzled. ‘Oh no, Mrs B. That was just a character in a book I had read.’

  Mrs Biddle leaned towards June and whispered theatrically, ‘My cousin Edna had both −’

  She was interrupted by a joyful bellow from Gary.

  ‘Rakka!’

  Startled, June watched as Gary hurried towards an attractive thick-set man who was bounding down the stone stairs from the house to the garden. Dressed in a white linen shirt

  and tailored black trousers, he was holding a mobile phone. An expensive gold watch encircled his wrist.

  He gaped at Gary.

  Gary pumped the man’s hand. ‘It’s me − Gaz Widdup. Mate, how long’s it been?’

  ‘Gaz?’

  ‘You look great, mate. Like a real toff,’ said Gary wonderingly.

  June joined them and peered at the newcomer. She could detect some cosmetic surgical enhancement to his face − it had that Jiminy Cricket look. And his too-brown hair, unlike Gary’s with its sprinkle of grey at the sides, was blow waved and shining.

  ‘Junie, this is Rakka Lamb from the old home town. We grew up together.’

  Gary’s eyes glistened with emotion as he beamed at Rakka.

  A wide-eyed Nigel had appeared, followed closely by his astonished mother.

  ‘Stuart?’ Fliss looked inquiringly at her husband. ‘You know Gareth?’

  ‘Gary,’ chorused June, Gary and Rakka.

  ‘You’re married to this posh, I mean, to Fliss here?’ asked Gary, looking from one to the other in amazement. ‘Well, seeing you own the joint, Rakka, how about getting us some beer, mate?’