The Listmaker (5 page)

‘I know it, just give me one little minute! Allusive?'

‘Warmish, but not quite right, dear.'

‘Alluring, then!'

‘Getting warmer …'

‘It's
alluvial
,' I interrupted.

‘So it is, but no one can say gold isn't alluring, too. What say we pass it, seeing Joan got the first syllable right?'

It was really pathetic, the bending of rules that went on in their warm-up games of Trival Pursuit! Luckily, Eileen Holloway arrived then, late as usual, which meant an excuse to escape by hopping up to let her in. (It also meant having another wrinkled old cheek pressed against mine and not being able to do anything about it.) Eileen floated into the living room to join the others. Aunty Nat's famous card group, relocated to its new premises at Avian Cottage, Parchment Hills, was in full swing. I'd done my duty as far as politeness went, and could now go downstairs with a clear conscience and finish off the jobs on my list. Except it didn't seem a very fascinating way to spend the evening …

I hung about in the hall, listening to the cheerful din, feeling rather out of things. Which was stupid. I knew that if I'd actually
wanted
to play Trivial Pursuit or cards, all those kind old dears would have been delighted. But because I'd already practically snarled at poor Aunty Nat for suggesting it, it seemed too embarrassing to go back in there. I glanced at the phone, wishing I could ring Dad. It was depressing when people could only talk to each other with a lot of fussy details about time zones. (Actually, Dad always preferred to call
me
when he was overseas, not the other way around. That was so I wouldn't disturb him if he was busy or catching up on sleep after a heavy work schedule.) It seemed ages since he'd last phoned. It would be nice, I thought, if he didn't just keep vanishing for weeks on end. It must feel good to have a parent who was around permanently, in the same place. Then you wouldn't have to built up a relationship all over again, each time you met.

‘Sarah, would you mind checking Eileen's car?' Aunty Nat called. ‘She can't think if she locked up properly. Oh, and while you're about it, just make sure the headlights aren't still on, dear.'

Eileen's car was parked outside in the road (she was a bit nervous about getting herself in and out of driveways). The curtains weren't drawn in the Ryders' living room, and you could see in. I suddenly remembered Corrie's invitation from yesterday, about watching videos. That invitation had been genuine; you could tell by the way she'd said it. She'd made it sound the easiest thing in the world, just a matter of turning up and banging on their front door. Maybe I could
still
do it, even if I only stayed for half an hour or so. I could use their phone to let Aunty Nat know where I was, so she wouldn't think I'd been kidnapped out on the street. It wouldn't be hard to invent some convincing reason why I hadn't gone out with Piriel, either, as I'd said I would. Corrie would just say, ‘That's okay, it's great you could make it after all, Sarah. Come in and meet all my friends.'

It wouldn't happen like that, though; it never did at school. Somehow, I just didn't seem to have any talent for mixing with other kids. It was a mystery, because I didn't know what I was doing wrong. Once, Tara McCabe had even yelled at me, ‘I bet if there's such soppy things as guardian angels, the one you've got keeps begging for a transfer!' (We were out visiting a museum exhibition at the time. Tara had sneaked off and bought a bag of crisps, eating them behind Mrs H.'s back. She'd offered me some, but I'd reminded her about the rule of not eating in public places while wearing school uniform.)

I moved further along the footpath, to the Ryders' gate. From there you could see the whole of their living room, and what everyone was doing. They had their Christmas tree decorated already. There were four sleeping bags arranged in a semicircle facing the television set, but no one seemed to be watching properly. Corrie's friends were racketing about all over the place. Mr Ryder came in with a handful of ice-cream cones. He sat down to eat one, too. Corrie did something to the footrest on his reclining chair and his feet shot up in the air. He hit her with a cushion. They all hit him back. Mrs Ryder brought in a big plate of cocktail sausages, which everyone ate with their hands. Corrie put on a different video which nobody watched, either. They were all too busy chattering to each other and mucking around.

I felt like a traveller passing through a strange town late at night, gazing through a lighted window at a party. There was no way I'd fit in with that crowd of girls who already knew each other. I didn't belong down there. Slowly, I turned around and went back to Avian Cottage. In the front hall, I looked at the phone again. Piriel Starr was different; I never got on
her
nerves. She'd said right from the start that she knew we were going to get along just fine. I picked up the phone, then dialled her number …

‘Guess what, Aunty Nat!' I cried a few minutes later, bursting in on the serious business of the card night, which was a mind-numbing jackpot game that went on for ever and ever. ‘Piriel said if I meet her tomorrow at the Moreton Shopping Centre she'll help me choose something to wear to the wedding! Oh, and by the way, Eileen left her car keys in the ignition. Here they are.'

‘Thank you, dear. And that's very thoughtful of Piriel; it should be a nice outing for you,' Aunty Nat said.

The card-group members didn't have to ask whose wedding it was – Aunty Nat had kept them up to date on every little detail since Dad and Piriel first met. Eileen Holloway said gooily, ‘What a sweet way to start off the new year, having a family wedding! Have you ever considered holding the reception here at Avian Cottage, Nat? I think garden settings are always
so
romantic.'

Aunty Nat glanced up from her hand of cards. (It was always quite easy to tell from her expression if she'd been dealt good ones. She would have made a terrible secret agent.)

‘That darling little porch out the front would be just perfect for bridal photos,' Eileen added. ‘Almost as lovely as a gondola in Venice.'

Aunty Nat laid down her cards in full view, not even realising everyone could see she had the joker. ‘Now why didn't I think of it myself?' she cried. ‘Not just the reception, but having the whole caboodle here – the marriage ceremony and everything! It would be a bit of a rush, but I don't see why I couldn't get everything ready in time. It would be so much nicer than a registry office! That's what they were planning, would you believe – a registry office, then going on to some restaurant straight afterwards. It's certainly not
my
idea of a proper wedding. I wonder if I could talk them into changing their minds –'

‘But Piriel's already made her own plans,' I said quickly, trying to stop her getting carried away. There was nothing Aunty Nat liked more than buzzing around arranging things that involved a lot of eating. ‘You can't just –'

‘They could have the actual ceremony down in our little summerhouse,' Aunty Nat prattled on, as though she hadn't even heard. ‘Catering wouldn't be any problem, either. If the weather's nice enough we could use the deck … though maybe not with all those greedy rosellas hanging around. A kind of buffet thing set up inside might be better. And I could make the wedding cake, too!'

‘But Piriel wasn't even planning on having one …'

‘Even if I do say so myself, my cake decorating is every bit as good as a professional's. You remember that beauty I rustled up for your niece's twenty-first, don't you, Joanie? Once Christmas is over we'd have a few weeks clear run. Ed, could you perform some kind of miracle and get all the repairs and painting done by early February?'

‘No worries,' Mr Woodley said. ‘Just let me bung in those new stumps first before I start on any fancy-work, though, Nat. Can't have the old place sliding off down the hill with a mob of wedding guests inside.'

First-name terms already, I thought darkly, eyeing him across the card table.

‘Let's see, now,' Aunty Nat said, starting to jot things down on one of the score pads. ‘There's the stumps, then painting the house inside and out, summerhouse ditto, new gravel for the paths … Sarah, maybe I should delegate this list to you, dear. You're always such a dab hand at them.'

‘You'd better attend to it, Aunty Nat. I've got homework to do,' I hedged, because that was one list I really didn't want to get involved with. It would be an
insult
to Piriel, suggesting that she might like to have her wedding at a dumpy old house like Avian Cottage!

Aunty Nat:
New recipe file. Flowery notepaper. New Gilbert and Sullivan cassette (yuk!). Silver lyrebird bracelet charm she's been admiring in Parchment Hills jeweller's window (aaaargh!!!).

Aunt Dorothy:
Pair of proper slippers. (NB So she can throw out those grungy old plastic thongs!) Something for the garden – plant, gardening gloves? OR – book on how to quit smoking once and for all!

Darling Horace:
Gourmet sardines. Smart new collar. Big packet of Kitty Krunchies.

Card-gang sharpies:
Sheila Trenton – 4711 cologne; Derek Trenton – box of soft fudge suitable for denture wearers; Joan Cordrice – spectacles chain; Eileen Holloway – potpourri.

Dad:
Tie? Socks? Hankies? Travel alarm clock? (No good; he prefers wake-up calls. Plus there's already an alarm-clock thing on his watch.) Nice pen? (But he's got
heaps
of them.) What do you buy for a person who already
has
everything?!

Piriel:
?? What
do
you buy for a person who already has everything?!

Christmas cards

Mrs H. at school.

Belinda Gibbs, Tara McCabe, Marnie Kydd. (But all three of them still owe
me
cards from last Christmas!)

Corrie Ryder ??

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

‘Tagging along wasn't
my
idea,' Aunt Dorothy said mildly. ‘Nat didn't want you going all that way on public transport by yourself. She feels responsible. Anyhow, I've got Christmas shopping to do, so I'll probably beetle off once I've handed you over to Piriel.'

I was relieved to hear that. Piriel wasn't expecting anyone except me, and might feel humiliated to be seen with someone else who looked so scruffy. (Aunt Dorothy
had
actually rustled up a pair of ladderless pantyhose, but then spoiled the effect by bringing along a gross shopping bag made of camouflage canvas.) I still had some Christmas shopping of my own, too. If we finished looking for clothes early enough, I thought, Piriel might be able to help me find a wonderful Christmas present for Dad. Presents for him were always difficult. Every year I racked my brains, but usually ended up getting hankies, ties or socks. Piriel had the whole day off work; she'd said so on the phone. It shouldn't take more than an hour to choose something to wear to the wedding. She'd probably be the first one to suggest that we spend the rest of the day Christmas shopping together.

‘If you've forgotten anything, there won't be any time to go back for it,' I said impatiently, because Aunt Dorothy had just backed the car out of the drive, then stopped again. ‘Piriel's expecting us at ten
on the dot
. We've got to meet her in the lower mall next to the –'

‘Next to those automatic-teller machines. Yes, I already know, dear. You've mentioned it quite a few times already. And you can stop fussing, because we're just waiting for that little girl from next-door. Nat told her mother we could give her a lift.'

‘Corrie Ryder? What a nerve, cadging lifts all over the place when we hardly even know them!'

‘Where she's going is just round the corner from the Moreton Centre, so it's not even out of our way.'

‘Their living room's messy. I saw through the window last night when I was checking Eileen's car. They even had food sitting around on plates on the
floor
. Well, I'm just glad I didn't have to eat any of it!'

‘Sarah, don't be such a toffee-nose. The Ryders seem very nice people.'

‘Their house isn't. It's even more run down than Avian Cottage.'

‘They probably can't afford to do it up. They've put all their money into buying a plant nursery, and good luck to them. Corrie's a pleasant enough kid. When she brought that goat over before breakfast …'

‘Meg's a
dumb
name for a goat,' I said, turning a little red.

‘… I really think you might have shown some interest. She was just about to show you how to tether it, only you'd already nicked back inside. And it doesn't matter what that goat's called, as long as it gets rid of some of the blackberries.'

I could think of plenty of reasons for not showing more interest in Corrie Ryder. While we waited, I went over some of them in my mind.

1. She was a pain in the neck.
   
2. She had a laugh like a kookaburra's.
   
3. She poked her nose into things that weren't any of her business.
   
4. She was tactless about people's names (ie Piriel's).
   
5. If I was too nice to her, she might get the idea I actually wanted to be her friend.
   

Corrie came hurtling out, not even shutting their gate behind her. She didn't close the door of the car properly, either, so we had to stop further along to fix it. She was off to this place where you could climb walls studded with rocks. Even though she had a grazed knee from her last visit there, she sounded as though she could hardly wait to have another try. (I felt amazed that anyone could not only
want
to do something like that, but also pay to get in!)

‘It's
awesome
! I'll probably go again before Christmas,' she said. ‘Want to come along if I do?'

‘Thanks all the same, but I don't think I'm going to have any spare time before Christmas.'

‘There's a big water slide up in the lake park. That's great, too. Now it's swimming weather, maybe we could –'

‘I'll be very busy,' I said, cutting her off short.

Aunt Dorothy, who was being decidedly irritating this morning, butted in with, ‘Get along with you, Sarah. You sound like a company director. I could always drop you and Corrie off at the lake park and pick you up again later. Or the wall-climbing place, if you'd rather have a shot at that.'

‘I'll have masses of cards to send out. And Christmas shopping to do, if I don't finish it all today,' I said curtly. Corrie's exuberance was
already
driving me up a wall! It was hot in the car, but the air-conditioning was out of action. (It had been like that ever since Aunty Nat let Scott and Cameron tune it instead of having it done at a proper garage.)

‘My Christmas presents were a breeze this year,' Corrie volunteered. ‘I just bought a lot of old books at the junk shop, then hollowed out the pages with a Stanley knife. You make a kind of little pit for hiding valuables, but it still looks like an ordinary book. I thought I'd fill the cut-out spaces with gold chocolate coins, so everyone will get the general idea.'

‘Goodness, I remember making one of those when I was a kid!' Aunt Dorothy said. ‘I'd forgotten all about it. Except I got into a row over mine, because I'd used a library book by mistake. But what a super idea for Christmas presents! It shows you must have loads of imagination.'

I felt a little twinge of something that felt almost like jealousy. It wasn't just because of the compliment about having loads of imagination, though I couldn't help thinking that Aunt Dorothy had never said anything like that to
me
. It was more because she was chatting so easily to Corrie. Usually she didn't strike up conversations with people she'd just met. If she was collecting me from school on Fridays instead of Aunty Nat or Dad, she preferred to wait in the car until I came out with my bag. She said it saved time, but I knew it was to avoid any stray parents, teachers or kids. But now she and Corrie Ryder were crackling away at each other like a house on fire. They were talking about gardening, of all things! Corrie not only sounded as though she knew quite a lot about it, but was actually
interested
.

‘If it's ideas for hedges you're after, you should check out our nursery,' she said. ‘Dad's got all sorts of hedge plants.'

‘Does he have jacaranda trees, too? I
love
them.'

‘If he hasn't got any in stock right now, he can always order you one. And if you like azaleas …'

It almost felt as though
I
was the one being given a lift instead of Corrie. I stopped listening and concentrated proudly on what kind of outfit to buy for the wedding. It would have to be
very
special, something that would make Dad and Piriel pleased to introduce me to their friends. Something that made me look glamorous and interesting …

When we dropped Corrie off at the indoor rock-climbing place, she waved goodbye from the entrance, but I didn't react until she'd gone inside. My mind was still full of the wedding. I kept seeing myself, beautifully dressed, mingling with all the guests and knowing
exactly
what to say to each one. Putting last-minute touches to Piriel's hair before the official photographs. Piriel and Dad insisting that
I
should be included in all those photographs. Offering to get people fresh drinks, and not spilling one drop. Except Avian Cottage somehow kept appearing as the backdrop for all those delightful images, which was perfectly
ridiculous
!

‘That was kind of rude, Sarah, not waving back to Corrie,' Aunt Dorothy remarked, turning left for the Moreton Centre.

‘You just missed the arrow lights,' I said distractedly. ‘We're going to have trouble finding a parking spot.'

We cruised around all the car-park levels twice. Aunt Dorothy wasn't aggressive enough to thwart people stealing spaces from right under her nose. I began to chew at a fingernail, but even when we finally wangled a space, she stopped to look at a bank of native plants. Heat blasted across the enormous car park like dragon's breath, but I still couldn't hurry her along. She took no more notice of heatwaves than she did of being punctual for appointments! I might as well have tried to shove Mount Kosciuszko another metre further along to the left.

Piriel, dressed in white and looking as cool and unruffled as iced milk, swept aside my flustered apology about being late. She even smiled at Aunt Dorothy as though it was a pleasant surprise to have an extra person on our shopping trip. (She didn't flinch at the sight of the camouflage bag, either. The way Piriel managed that, I saw with keen interest, was to glance at it once, then pretend it wasn't even there.) And most graciously of all, she wouldn't hear of Aunt Dorothy going off on her own.

‘Oh, you
must
stick around while we shop,' she said. ‘Sarah will need shoes and a bag to go with the new dress, and it will be more fun deciding all that between us. Pity it happens to clash with the pre-Christmas rush, though. Aren't the decorations
vile
, all those ghastly chiming bells strung up everywere? They only seem to be programmed for “Joy to the World”. I thought I'd go crazy while I was waiting, having to listen to that over and over again.'

I'd been just about to mention how pretty the bells looked, and felt glad I hadn't. (I didn't mention the heralds with their gold trumpets, either, in case Piriel thought they were ghastly, too.)

‘I had an idea about your dress, Sarah,' she said. ‘How would it be if we search for a pattern instead of buying a ready-made one? The summer fashions this year all seem so ugly, specially for your age group. It would be much better to choose a pattern and some lovely material, and I'll make it in time for the wedding. We want you looking your very best, don't we?'

I felt elated, knowing that anything made by Piriel would turn out to be stunning. She made a lot of her own clothes, and they always looked wonderful. The shop she took us to had one whole large section set aside for patterns. Piriel began to flick through the heavy albums, as though she knew exactly what she was hunting for. I glanced at Aunt Dorothy, suspecting that she really
would
have preferred to beetle off on her own. She was always bored by anything to do with clothes.

‘They've got a craft section over there,' I said, inspired. ‘Maybe you might find a Christmas present for Aunty Nat.'

It wasn't such a brilliant inspiration. Aunt Dorothy used the aisle behind the counter as a direct route to get there. One of the busy shop assistants had to shoo her out from underfoot, and it was a disaster when she finally reached that craft section, anyway. She set her bag down on the floor, and someone immediately tripped over it. Straight after that she knocked over a stand of embroidery kits, flattening somebody else. Piriel, with great presence of mind, called her back and asked her to go over to the far side of the shop to see what they had in the way of small white buttons. She made it sound as though it was a vital mission, but winked at me secretly as Aunt Dorothy trotted off. It felt wonderful, the two of us sharing a conspiracy, left in peace to look at patterns together.

‘Between you and me, I'm rather glad Nat didn't decide to come along, too,' Piriel said. ‘Poor old Dosh is
quite
enough to be getting on with, but at least she never pretends she knows anything about clothes … Aha, search over! Something in this style is what I had in mind for you.'

I inspected it doubtfully. It wasn't really the sophisticated sort of thing I'd been imagining on the drive down from Parchment Hills. In fact, it seemed a little on the young side for someone my age, vaguely like something you'd see on an old-fashioned porcelain doll.

‘Now it's just a matter of finding the right material,' Piriel said. ‘Which shouldn't be any problem. They always have a great range here – that's if Dorothy hasn't managed to demolish their whole stock by now. Let's go and find something
really
gorgeous for you, sweetie. Didn't I tell you this would be fun?'

Piriel had perfect taste and knew all about fashions, I thought. There was no need to feel anxious about my new dress. I followed her through the shop, hoping that people would see we belonged together. But I didn't like to get
too
close. Piriel had a strong invisible boundary, which somehow made getting close to her seem like an intrusion. The aunts didn't have any boundaries to speak of, even Aunt Dorothy with her ship-in-a-bottle daffiness. It always felt the most natural thing in the world to help Aunty Nat fasten a necklace, rub sunscreen lotion on Aunt Dorothy's back at the pool, get splinters out for them if they couldn't find their reading glasses. But Piriel was different, and the zone around her somehow demanded respect. Aunt Dorothy, however, suddenly bounced into it, flourishing a long roll of buttercup-yellow material as though she was conducting an orchestra.