‘No, no, that’s fine. Thanks, it’s kind of you.’
Saverio was not frightened of Leo’s ghost. They had that in common, brothers in their rationalism and atheism, their father’s sons.
Julian walked around the bed and started flicking through the canvases against the wall. ‘I’ll have to sort through all of these before I head back to Sydney. Leo’s named me executor of his estate.’ Julian’s voice had dropped to an anxious whisper.
‘That’s how it should be.’
Saverio glimpsed a corner of a painting, the strokes thick, the colours warm, fiery. A lavender-veined penis pushing through a glory hole. Julian let the canvases drop. He seemed to be searching the walls of the room and his gaze lighted on a small, vividly coloured Polaroid. It was of a beaming Filipina woman holding a chuckling naked boy. Julian’s features, his smile, his mischievous eyes, were unmistakable. Julian unpinned the Polaroid and put it in his shirt pocket. ‘Leo was always meant to give that back. It’s the only photo I have of me and Mum back in Manila.’
Saverio felt as if he were sinking. He had hoped that it would be cooler up in the hills but he had forgotten that it was impossible to escape the humidity in this part of the world. He wanted to be back in Melbourne, in less intense light, where he didn’t feel that every corner and spare inch of space was illuminated. He didn’t want to be sipping red wine. He wanted a beer. He didn’t know how to make conversation with these people, even Julian who had always been kind to him and Rachel.
There was the sound of smashing glass on the verandah and peals of laughter.
‘It’s probably going to be like this all night.’
Saverio searched his pockets, clasped the car keys. ‘I’m going to go into town. Do we need anything?’
Julian, surprised, shook his head.
‘I’ll see you in an hour or two.’
‘Sav, will you deliver a eulogy tomorrow?’
He felt snookered. No, he did not want to deliver a eulogy. There was absolutely nothing to say.
With a toss of his chin, Julian indicated the world outside. ‘We’d all appreciate it.’
I thought you didn’t believe in family. I thought you believed it was a patriarchal capitalist construct. But maybe they did now. Maybe now they believed in family and shares and television and parliamentary democracy. He just wanted to leave the room, the house, the unbearable heat.
He nodded and Julian smiled.
An old lime Volkswagen Beetle was coming up the drive. There was a noisy crunching of gears, and then a small shudder before it came to a halt. Saverio looked through the flyscreen door to see everyone leave the verandah and cluster around the white-haired woman who got out of the car. She wore faded bermuda shorts and a yellow singlet.
A much younger woman stepped out from the driver’s side. She looked as though she was still shedding adolescence. She was wearing a pink see-through shirt and even from behind the screen Saverio could see the outline of the black bra beneath.
Julian pushed past him through the door and Saverio almost fell out onto the verandah.
Everyone was talking, calling out, hugging and kissing the older woman. Only the young woman looked up and smiled ruefully, as if to acknowledge him. She was not dressed for the weather at all. She had on a tight black miniskirt with embroidered white stockings. Her thick-soled black boots laced up past her ankles. Her hair was dyed a platinum blonde, set in curls that fell to her shoulders, and her face was heavily made-up with rouge, thick black eyeliner and scarlet lipstick. She reminded him of a young Marilyn Monroe. She seemed to know everyone, greeting them with kisses. Julian had placed a protective arm around her and was beckoning Saverio to come down.
The older woman looked up as he descended the steps. He recognised her face: Margaret Cannon was a well-regarded fiction writer; Rachel had read all her books. Saverio had no recollection of meeting her before. But her smile was warm, inviting, and her grip firm as she shook his hand. ‘It’s Stephen, isn’t it?’
‘Saverio.’
‘My apologies. That’s a much better name.’ She turned to the younger woman. ‘This is Leo’s brother, Saverio. And this is Anna, my daughter and Leo’s goddaughter.’
The young woman’s hand was moist. She winced apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sweaty.’
‘Of course you are, Anna. Look at what you’re wearing.’
Anna’s laugh was loud and deep-throated. ‘You’re a bitch, Dawn.’
‘Yeah, shut up.’ Julian’s arm tightened around Anna’s shoulders. ‘I think you look gorgeous.’
‘Thank you, Jules, so do you.’
Saverio now found himself at the edge of the circle. He jiggled the car keys in his pocket. ‘I’m going into town. Anyone need anything?’
‘Do we need more grog?’
‘There’s plenty. Even for us.’
Dawn wasn’t satisfied. ‘Is there whisky?’
Julian rubbed at his chin. ‘I can go and have a look. .’
‘Get us a bottle of Scotch,’ she interrupted.
Give us some money, thought Saverio sourly.
But it was Anna who answered. ‘Jesus, Dawn, what did your last slave die of?’
Dawn didn’t miss a beat. ‘Laziness.’
He couldn’t help it, even he had to laugh. They were so fast, so sophisticated, so smart. He nodded and moved towards his car. He was surprised to find Anna following him.
She turned back to her mother. ‘I’m going into town as well.’
‘We just got here!’
Anna ignored her. She was waiting for Saverio to unlock the doors. She smiled across at him. ‘It’s alright with you, isn’t it?’
‘Of course.’
As they turned onto the Pacific Highway, Anna let out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. That was a bit too much.’
‘What was?’
‘Seeing everyone en masse. You know, that old libertarian femo crowd. They’re lovely but it will be all the same stories: who slept with Germaine Greer, who sucked off Robert Hughes while they were all on acid.’
She reminded Saverio of Adelaide, the affectation in her outburst. They were both young women, trying out accents, tones, registers. He wasn’t at all shocked by her language. It just reminded him of how young she was.
‘Tom looks awful.’
He didn’t reply.
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess that’s because of all the antiretroviral drugs he’s on. And because he’s a drunk.’
‘He’s always been an alcoholic.’
He felt her gaze fix on him. ‘I didn’t know Leo had a brother.’
‘I didn’t know he had a godchild.’
‘He’s got two. But Danny is in England or Poland or somewhere like that.’
They fell into silence. But something she’d said had made him curious. He couldn’t help it. He felt a little embarrassed asking but ask he did. ‘Who did Germaine Greer fuck?’
Anna grinned mischievously. ‘Probably all of them.’ She was searching through the glove box and underneath her seat. ‘Do you have any music?’
‘No. It’s a hire car.’
She was examining the stereo unit. ‘I should have brought along my iPod. There’s a jack.’ She turned to him eagerly. ‘Do you have one?’
So that was what that attachment on the stereo was for. She, like his own kids, seemed to have a second sense for technology. He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I left mine back at the house.’
Disappointed, she turned the radio on instead. She kept punching buttons, rapid sprays of music, country and western, pop, snatches of talkback. She settled on a familiar strained melancholic voice singing above a jangling melodious electric guitar.