The Mothers' Group (16 page)

The wine bar was busy, with throngs of people weaving to and from the bar carrying trays of expensive drinks. Men in business shirts stood around in packs, ties loosened and sleeves rolled up, accompanied by women in thick makeup and flimsy black dresses.

Made wondered what they did of a day, all these loud, laughing people. Her own life revolved around Wayan's quiet rhythms, interspersed with long stretches of daytime television and informal English language lessons on CD. She was proud to have completed level three, with another seven levels to go.

Made spotted the mothers' group at a table in the far corner. Everyone looked so different, she thought, wearing their going-out clothes. Ginie was every bit the corporate lawyer in a slick charcoal suit. Her bright red lipstick made her look younger, somehow, than on their casual Friday gatherings. Cara was wearing a summery white dress, brown leather sandals and dangly hoop earrings. Her hair, usually pulled back in a loose ponytail, fell to her shoulders in waves. She was laughing, and her teeth flashed white against sun-kissed skin. Miranda was wearing her trademark skinny-leg jeans, but with an emerald-coloured blouse that highlighted her intense green eyes. Pippa appeared to be wearing black, as usual, but she'd made an obvious effort with her hair and makeup. Her brown hair had been blow-waved, with the fringe swept back and fixed behind her ear with a glittering green hairclip. Her hazel eyes seemed brighter too. As for Suzie, Made hardly recognised her at all. She looked like Marilyn Monroe.

Ginie hailed her. ‘What are you having, Made?' She lifted her hands to her lips to make the point.

‘Ah . . .' She found a seat next to Pippa; there was always a vacant seat next to her. Made looked around at what the others were drinking. She'd arrived more than an hour late, delayed by Wayan, who'd been unsettled for most of the afternoon. Cara was having a glass of red wine, and so was Suzie. Pippa was sipping an elaborate green cocktail, the type she'd seen at Pantai Raya—but it looked odd in Pippa's hands. Ginie and Miranda were sharing a bottle of champagne.

‘Ah . . .' Made spotted an almost empty glass of sparkling mineral water near Miranda. ‘I have like Miranda, mineral water.'

Miranda laughed. ‘That's not mineral water, Made. It's vodka and soda. Ginie and I got here early, so we had an aperitif. Now we're onto the champagne chasers, aren't we, Gin?' She giggled as she raised her champagne flute. ‘Cheers.'

‘Oh.' Made was astonished by how much alcohol Australians drank. It was rare for Balinese men to drink, even rarer for women. She'd only ever tried alcohol once, at one of the five bars at Pantai Raya Resort. At Ketut's urging, she'd taken a swig from a half-used bottle of guest champagne. She'd spat it out onto the sand in disgust.

‘What about a Jalapeño Margarita?' Ginie nodded in Pippa's direction. ‘They're fabulous. I ordered one for Pippa earlier, to match her hairclip.'

Made turned to look at Pippa; Ginie's comment had sounded rather sarcastic. But she could never be certain of sarcasm in English.

‘It's a bit spicy for me.' Pippa looked embarrassed. ‘I probably should have stuck to the mineral water.'

‘Oh
, come on
,' objected Ginie. ‘This is our one night off.'

‘Not for me.' Pippa's voice was low. ‘I'll be getting up to Heidi for the rest of the night, if Robert's managed to get her down at all.'

Cara made a sympathetic sound. ‘Is Heidi still difficult to settle?'

Pippa nodded. ‘I'm up five times a night. Robert doesn't hear her crying anymore.' There was a resentful tone in her voice.

Ginie rolled her eyes. ‘I swear to God, men are inept.' She glanced at Pippa. ‘No offence, Pippa. It's just such a bloody common story. Men and their friggin' selective deafness. Daniel does it too. They're oh-so-keen at conception, but they lose interest afterwards.' Ginie quaffed a mouthful of champagne. ‘Okay, so . . . two mineral waters for Pippa and Made. Anyone else need a drink?' She glanced around the table. ‘Suzie, you're almost finished. Another red?'

Suzie shook her head. Her mane of curls was uncharacteristically neat and glossy tonight. She wore a red wraparound dress with a plunging neckline. She'd clearly spent a lot of time getting ready. ‘No, I shouldn't, really,' she said. ‘I'm still breastfeeding.'

‘Suit yourself,' said Ginie, striding off in the direction of the bar.

‘Actually . . .' Suzie leaned towards the rest of the group in a conspiratorial way. ‘I can't drink too much because I'm meeting someone after this. For
dinner
.'

‘What, a
man
?' Cara nudged her theatrically with an elbow.

Suzie nodded. Her smile was euphoric.

‘Oooh, you're a sly one,' said Miranda, downing the rest of her champagne. ‘How long has this been going on, then?'

‘Not long. I only met him a few weeks ago.' Suzie giggled. ‘But when he asked me out to dinner tonight, I couldn't say no. I'd lined up a babysitter anyway, so it's kind of worked out. But I'll have to go and meet him soon.'

‘What, you're going to pass up more drinks with us for a
man
?' Miranda joked.

‘Good luck to you,' said Cara. ‘What's his name?'

‘Bill.'

‘Who's Bill?' Ginie returned to the table. ‘The mineral waters are on their way, ladies.'

‘Suzie's got a boyfriend,' volunteered Miranda.

‘He's not my . . .'

‘Well, ring-a-ding-ding.' Again, Made couldn't tell if Ginie was being sarcastic.

‘You're a better woman than I am, Suze,' said Miranda. ‘I couldn't go back out on the dating scene.' She topped up her own glass, then poured the remainder of the bottle into Ginie's. ‘All that waxing and preening and God knows what. I'm too damned tired for any of it.'

‘Well, it's been a while for me,' said Suzie quietly. ‘It was nice getting dressed up tonight.'

‘God, it's been a while for
me
and I'm
married
. Look at me.' She pointed at her black jeans. ‘This is the most dressed up I've been lately. I actually cleaned the vomit off my jeans.'

Everyone laughed.

‘Miranda, you
always
look great,' said Cara. It was true, Made thought.

‘Well, it's a big illusion,' said Miranda. ‘Because I feel like
crap
most of the time.' She shook her head. ‘I'm just not getting enough sleep. And now Willem's moved back into our bedroom. He's been in the guest room since Rory was born. He probably thinks he'll get some
action
now.' Miranda fidgeted with her wedding ring, twisting it on her finger. ‘But really, it's the
last
thing on my mind.'

Ginie laughed. ‘So I'm not the only one who doesn't feel up to it anymore? Thank God for that.'

‘I think it's pretty common, actually,' said Cara. Her gold hoop earrings swung as she spoke. ‘I'm not really back in the saddle myself yet. So to speak.'

There was laughter around the table, but Pippa's smile seemed strained. She fiddled with the straw in her cocktail. Made assumed a slightly mystified expression, as if she didn't quite understand. She knew they were talking about sex, but she didn't want to divulge the details of her private life. Gordon was tender and considerate in the bedroom, as he was in every other domain. Having Wayan hadn't changed that. But she'd never experienced the sort of sublime sexual ecstasy her village girlfriends had gossiped about.

Made glanced sideways at Pippa. She'd barely drunk anything alcoholic, and the mineral water stood on its coaster untouched. It was six months since their babies had been born, and over four months since they'd started attending mothers' group. And yet Pippa was still on the periphery, rarely smiling or laughing. Why did she persist, Made wondered, week after week? She squinted at Pippa's profile, partially obscured by the dim lighting in the bar and, for a moment, thought she saw the face of another. A wise, gnarled face, floating in the mist on Sanur beach. Made could still remember how the mist had parted and there she was, the old woman with an offering, radiating light from her wiry frame. And her message about the primacy of love, beyond outward appearances.

Maybe Pippa's like me, Made thought suddenly. Missing another world.

She blinked.

‘In Bali, we think like this,' Made started, a little hesitantly. ‘Sex is the human way, but true love comes from the gods. Anyone can do the sex. It easy thing. But real love is hard work.' She leaned forward; it was difficult to make herself heard above the clamour all around them. ‘We are mothers now . . . maybe less sex for husband, yes? But we work hard, for love. Sometimes it make the pain for us. We sacrifice many things. We give more love to husband, more to baby, sometimes we lose ourselves.' She paused. ‘But Balinese say, this effort not wasted. The gods
see
the hard work of mothers. They help us continue. They give us their blessing.'

No one said anything for a moment. Made stole a sidelong glance at Pippa. Her eyes were shiny in the shadows.

‘Made, you have a way with words,' said Ginie suddenly, lifting her champagne flute. ‘I salute you.'

‘Here, here!' said Cara.

The others raised their glasses and they clinked them together.

‘To more love, less sex!' Miranda laughed. ‘With the exception of Suzie, who's got it all going on right now.'

Suzie giggled and looked at her watch. ‘And I've
really
got to go and meet Bill.' She swung her handbag over her shoulder. ‘He's taking me to Saltfish.'

‘Oooh, lovely,' said Miranda. ‘Willem took me there before Rory was born. The food is
very
nice.' Miranda's elbow slipped off the edge of the table and champagne splashed across it. ‘Oops!' She cackled loudly.

‘See you next Friday then, girls,' said Suzie. ‘And thanks for suggesting tonight, Miranda. You too, Ginie. It was nice to catch up without the babies.'

Ginie waved her off. Miranda was too busy mopping up the spilt champagne with a wad of serviettes to notice her departure.

Made watched Suzie pick her way to the door, through the pack of humanity sweating and heaving and bawling at each other across the crowded bar. It was a world away from her mountain home in Bali.

She sipped at her mineral water. No, this mothers' group was
not
her family. They could never replace Komang or Ketut or her own beloved mother, or the comfort and camaraderie of village life. But these women weren't so different from her, after all. And apart from Gordon and little Wayan, they were the best thing about her life in Australia right now.

She was a foreigner far from home, and these women were her
friends
.

Suzie

Suzie dug around in the khaki hemp basket she carried everywhere, groping among the organic rusks, spare cloth nappies and aloe vera gel. Finally, she found her purse. She opened the coin compartment and retrieved the pastel blue business card she'd been searching for.

‘There,' she said, passing it to Pippa. ‘He's the best naturopath I've ever been to. I started going to him not long after Nils left.' Suzie grimaced, remembering the break-up. She'd been twenty-seven, more than seven months pregnant, and financially dependent on Nils. ‘I was so stressed out. He really helped me.'

Pippa inspected the card, turning it over in her hands. She didn't look well: her eyes were bloodshot, her skin sallow, her cheeks sunken.

Suzie glanced around the table. Everyone else seemed subdued today too. It was the last week of spring, but rain was pelting down beyond the white umbrellas of Beachcombers.

‘It's amazing what he can do,' Suzie continued. ‘He just looks in my eyes and tells me what I need. The first time I went, I was zinc and iron deficient. He mixed up some herbs on the spot, and within three weeks I was . . .'

‘Thanks,' Pippa said abruptly, cutting her off.

‘It's called iridology,' Suzie added. ‘He can tell what's wrong with you just by looking in your eyes. You should try it.'

Pippa looked mildly irritated. ‘I'm not sure that natural therapies can help me.'

Suzie shrugged. What
was
Pippa's problem? Whenever Suzie made a friendly overture, she bristled like a porcupine. God knows, she'd tried to draw her out. Others had, too. But Pippa was
such
hard work. Even Cara didn't get very far with her—and Cara was
everyone's
friend. And now she'd rejected Suzie's advice, all snippy and ungrateful. Well, I can't be bothered anymore, Suzie thought. I've got too much to smile about.

Freya squawked loudly, pulling against the straps of her stroller.

‘Shhh, miss,' said Suzie, passing her a rusk.

At six months old, their formerly compliant babies were now exerting their personalities. Astrid squirmed on Cara's lap and lunged towards the ground, squealing with indignation at being restrained. Rose sat in a portable highchair alongside Ginie, gumming a pink marshmallow. Outside in the playground, puddles were forming beneath the climbing equipment. Digby was hunched on a stool next to Miranda, miserable, poking a drinking straw at Rory in his pram. Made was attempting to spoon mashed vegetables into Wayan's mouth, most of which simply fell out of the twisted gap above his lip.

Suzie couldn't recall the medical name for Wayan's condition, but Made had recently seen a specialist about it. Apparently he'd told her that surgery would be inevitable by the time Wayan was three years old. The swelling on his lip had grown with each passing month; Suzie couldn't help but look at it. She'd given Made her naturopath's card, too, but Made had never followed up, as far as she knew. If only people would give alternative medicine a
chance
, Suzie mused, they might actually learn something.

Her bag vibrated under the table. She reached down and retrieved her phone, its message alert flashing.