Page 30 of Return to the Waratah Inn

“Hello, Mother. It’s Mima. How are you?”

“Mima? Where are you calling from?”

“I’m in Newcastle. I was at the post office to post you a letter when I saw this phone booth and thought that would be a much faster way to communicate. Isn’t it amazing? I can hear you just as if you were standing beside me.”

“Not quite so clearly, but it’s nice to hear from you. How are you, my dear?”

“I’m well. Still working as a midwife at the hospital. Still living in the dormitory there. But I have a boyfriend.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then her mother spoke in a halting voice. “Who is he?”

“He’s a musician. You’d love him. The way he plays the saxophone is incredible.”

“The saxophone? Is he one of those boogies? Does he play that awful jazz music?”

“Do you mean bodgies?” Mima frowned. “No, I wouldn’t call him a bodgie, Mother. He’s a musician, a very talented one.”

“And where does he play, then? In an orchestra?”

“Well… not exactly. He plays at dance halls and events. Sometimes weddings. That kind of thing.”

“Dance halls?” She could hear the disapproval in her mother’s tone. “You should stay away from men like that. He’ll only get you into trouble.”

“Mother, I’m in love. Can’t you be happy for me?”

“In love? Mima, when will you learn to be sensible? I thought by now… well, never mind. I’ve got to go, my dear. I’m playing mahjong with the neighbours. Have you heard of it? It’s very exotic, and all the rage in Sydney. We play it weekly, and we have the most fun. Maybe you could join us for a game next time you’re in town.”

“Can I speak to Daddy before I go? I have enough credit…”

“He won’t speak to you, Mima. You know that. And now with this boyfriend… He worries about you, but he’s had enough of your hijinks. He has a reputation to think about. What will people say? And if it’s money you’re after, he’s already told you that he won’t give you a cent. Not with you living that lifestyle in the city.”

As Mima hung up the phone, her heart was heavy. She’d felt so full of joy a few minutes ago, and now she was a deflated sail on a still, cold ocean. She strode back to Luca’s unit with a growing sense of anger. Why couldn’t her parents accept her? They never truly had. They wanted a good little girl who always did what she was told, never had a thought of her own, got married right out of school, and settled in the same neighbourhood to pop out babies and play weekly games of mahjong with her mother. But that wasn’t Mima. It never had been.

Chapter Sixteen

January 1998

Surfer’s Paradise

Bindi’s feet ached. She’d danced for three hours straight, and the vodka screwdrivers were about to wear off. She glanced through the pressing crowd to where the bar was located, thirst driving her towards it. Behind her, someone grabbed her hand. She spun to face Brett, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, his brown eyes crinkled around the edges.

“Where are you going?” he shouted over the robotic thump of dance music.

She dipped her head in the direction of the bar and continued moving, winding, threading her way through the hypnotised crowd of dancers.

When she reached the bar, she asked the bartender for a glass of water. He handed her one then moved on to the next customer. Her head began to throb. She chugged the water down in one long movement, then set down the empty glass. There was no point asking for another. The bartender was far too busy to fetch it, and the music far too loud for him to hear her.

She spun and leaned against the bar, looking out over the sea of people. The entire room was bathed in semi-darkness with flashing colourful lights. The DJ pressed a set of headphones to his ears and waved one hand in the air as he worked, surrounded by tanned women who writhed to the music, hoping he might look their way.

Bindi had come here with Brett, the guy from Melbourne she’d run into at Bond University, and some of his friends. In the short time she’d known them, they’d become her friends as well. She’d already enrolled in classes for the new semester at the university, and she’d spent several evenings out with the group, getting to know them before she became a student there herself next month.

Brett fought his way through the crowd to stand in front of her. He pressed one hand to the bar beside her and leaned close to speak. “You okay?” She could feel his breath on her ear.

She nodded. “Thirsty.”

“I can buy you a drink.”

“No, thanks. I had some water. I’m gonna head home.”