There Should Be More Dancing by Rosalie Ham Sample Chapter

8/6/2019 There Should Be More Dancing by Rosalie Ham Sample Chapter

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Rosalie Ham

ThereShould Be MoreDancing

THEDRESSMAKER

From thebestselling author of

Copyright Rosalie Ham 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmittedin any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.


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Every eort has been made to acknowledge and contact the copyright holders orpermission to reproduce material contained in this book. Any copyright holders whohave been inadvertently omitted rom acknowledgements and credits should contactthe publisher and omissions will be rectifed in uture editions.

A Vintage bookPublished by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

Level 3, 100 Pacifc Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060www.randomhouse.com.au

First published by Vintage in 2011

Copyright Rosalie Ham 2011

Lyrics on p. 68 rom Think It Over reproduced by kind permission oUniversal Music Publishing Pty Ltd and Peermusic.

The moral right o the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part o this book may be reproduced or transmitted byany person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any ormor by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (exceptunder the statutory exceptions provisions o the Australian Copyright Act 1968),recording, scanning or by any inormation storage and retrieval system withoutthe prior written permission o Random House Australia.

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National Library o Australia

Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

Ham, RosalieThere should be more dancing

ISBN 978 1 86471 190 5 (pbk)

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Part One

Everyones got plans . . .

until they get hit.Mike Tyson



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3

ROOM

4321

Im not going. And Im not living with her.

Id sooner die.

Last week, they moved Florence into my home. The second I

laid eyes on her standing there in my doorway, with her Ava Gardner

hair and Lana Turner bust, I said to mysel, This isnt going to

work.

Shes not my type at all. For a start, shes a common barmaid.And, in the end, she turned out to be nothing less than a thie, a liar

and an adulteress.

One week we lasted together, and then the truth came out.

You see, theres been a conspiracy. I ound out on Sunday that or

almost sixty years the entire neighbourhood, everyone in act, knew

things that I didnt know, things I should have known. And there



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have been plots against me. Shockingly, Walter, my rstborn, was in

on them as well. He says he wasnt. But how can I trust what Walter

says now? How can I trust what anyone says?

Today my heart is aching. I can eel it. Its gasping, like a sh on a

beach, because my own children have broken it.

In act, everyone Ive known or the last sixty years has

betrayed me.

So, this is my nal day. Ive come here to throw mysel to my death.

I know what will happen to my body, my hands and my head. I

know itll be quick, but I cant jump yet because at present theres too

many people in the oyer, so Ive had to book in or the night. I must

say, it is a lovely room, though beige and brown arent my colours.

Im right up on the top foor and I can see all the way across to the

war memorial.But, i the truth be known, since you died Ive been a bit ambi-

valent about lie anyway. So this morning when I realised I was let

with no option but to kill mysel, I decided to swallow thallium, but

you cant get it anymore. The chemist didnt even know what I was

talking about when I asked or some. It was popular in the ties,

I said, though she didnt look as i she was born until nineteen

eighty so I dont suppose she would know.So then I went to the railway station, but there were too many

people waiting on the platorm. I decided to throw mysel under

a tram instead, but the rst driver to come along was very young,

and I didnt want him to have me on his mind or the rest o his lie

because othem, because theyve betrayed me.

It all started about ve weeks ago. It was my birthday. Our

birthday.



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Judith said, Were having an eightieth birthday party just or you!

As you know, it was actually our seventy-ninth birthday, but I just

let them be a year early and got on with enjoying my day out. Lovely

lunch. I had a prawn cocktail and a slice o cheesecake. The cream

wasnt real, but it was still nice. Mrs Parsons had poached llet o

sh and a slice o lemon tart. She said hers was lovely too, but she

couldnt get her spoon through the pastry so she wrapped it in her

serviette and popped it in her handbag or later.

It was a lovely day, then they dropped me back home and it all

went to mud. Judith told me I had to go to a home. I said, Ive got a

home, but she meant a home in a retirement village. Thats when I

knew Id have to be careul about you. I didnt want to be put away

just because I talk to you. I Judith heard me, shed say, She talks to

hersel, shes demented.

These past weeks have been truly dreadul. As I say, it all started onmy birthday, and then they moved Florence in, and, well, it ended

last Sunday. It was the last straw, so here I am.

Its obvious that, together, the very people who are meant to care

about me planned the whole conspiracy. As the saying goes, Crows

everywhere are equally black.

Why? Thats what I want to know. Why would they do thatto me?



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6

Day 1

Walter told them to be dressed and ready or the surprisebirthday party by eleven. So, on Sunday, Margery inched outo bed especially early to eat her breakast. Ater shed been in to seeMrs Parsons, she showered, ran a wet comb through what was let

o her curls, dressed in her best rock, coat and hat a squat, elt hat

shed bought in 1949 and was waiting at the gate by ten, peering

down Gold Street.

Eventually, Walter came kicking along the ootpath, smiling

just or Margery, a sixty-ish ex-boxer, balding yet hirsute, a shiny

Elvis curl on his orehead and the remnants o a ducktail careullyconstructed at his nape. Because it was his mothers birthday, he

carried his purple suit olded over his arm, and as always, Walter

was jaunty, victorious, draped in silk, his opponent prone on the

canvas, his boxing gloves bloodied, triumph obliterating the pain

in his battered ribs, not a sleek black hair on his head out o place

and his entourage behind him. All around, the spectators pulsed,

Bull, Bull, Brunswick Bull! At the sight o her son, Margerys stern,

slightly bewildered expression warmed.



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Nine hundred and eighty days, she said, her distorted image

looming back at her rom Walters chrome lens sunglasses.

Nine hundred and eighty days without one single drink, he said

and kissed her on the cheek.

How are you, Walter dear?

Never better. He gave her a plastic supermarket bag. You look

pretty.

Margery blushed, Its just an old thing, and looked into the

plastic bag. Oh my! Walter . . . chocolates and fowers!

Carnations, Walter said, pleased with himsel. Happy birthday,

Mumsy.

Just then, the Boyles arrived. As Barry eased his almost-new,

second-hand Mercedes-Benz M-Class our-wheel drive to the kerb,

Judith observed her eroded amily standing there on the ootpath:

a plain old woman contracting into her distorted shoes, mauve

hair squirting out rom under her aged hat, and a punctured andpulverised bloke with black-dyed sideburns and bleach-white ooty

shorts, which were tight enough to be conronting. Behind them, the

amily home was crumbling, its once grass-parrot-green paint lying

in pale fakes on the ground, the splintered rails o a picket ence

rotting on a dry patch o couch grass. Christ, its like a scene rom an

old horror lm.

You cant pick your amily, Barry said, and in the back seatPudding said, Pity about that.

Right, listen, Barry said, checking his image in the rear-vision

mirror. Its Marges eightieth birthday. Its in our best interest to keep

it nice, no matter what, or the next ew hours, alright?

You just want her house, Pudding said and got out o the car.

She strolled across the narrow street to speak to Tyson, whod known

her since the day she was born. These neighbours, Tyson and his

housemates, were a bunch o unkempt twenty-somethings, aged



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teenagers lost between genres. As usual, they sat in the wreck o a

modied 1998 Holden Commodore. The wheels were missing and

the car itsel was rusting into the overgrown ront lawn beneath the

broken ront windows o the house, but the leather seats remained

and the in-car entertainment system boasted stinger wiring, custom

sub-enclosure, clarion head unit, sound processor, tweeters, sub-

wooers, amplier and speakers.

Judith smiled tightly at her mother and puckered to give her a

birthday kiss, but Margery said, Hello, Judith. Goodness, youve put

on weight since Christmas.

Youre not much chop yoursel, Marge, Judith said evenly. You

could have at least worn your pearls, thats what theyre or to wear.

Judith had coveted the pearls or thirty years. On the occasion o her

twenty-rst birthday she assumed her mother had actually gited her

the pearls but was stunned when, at the stroke o midnight, Margery

asked or them back.Over her mothers shoulder, Judith spotted the For Sale sign on

Mrs Bists house. Renovators delight. Expect the unexpected in this

delightul cottage in a prime location.

You didnt tell me that house was or sale, Barry! Why didnt you

tell me that house was or sale?

The signs been up since Christmas, Judi, Walter said, and Barry

raised his hands in surrender. Barry worked in real estate, but hispatch was Reservoir, a suburb to the north o Melbourne not yet

quite noticed by restorers and opportunists.

Kevin rom over the road wanted to buy it, Margery said, but a

young couple ended up getting it.

Thatll be nice or you, Mumsy, Walter said. A nice young couple

next door.

Renovators. Margery snied. They take all the parking spots in

the street, have a baby think theyre the rst people in the world



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out onto the street in his purple suit, trying to stretch his jacket over

his paunch. His mother beamed at him. I remember when you got

that lovely suit, Walter. Lance called you a lair, but you were never a

lair. You were a champion.

Pud wandered back to the car and Judith snapped her phone

shut. Purple matches the colour o your skin tone, Walter. His proud

smile ell away and he stepped rom one oot to the other, rubbing

his nose with the palm o his hand.

Pudding stroked his lapel. I think you look cool, Uncle Walter.

Seriously retro.

Im the one here thats trained in Colours, Judith said, and

it was true, the Certicate Three in Beauty Services class o 1995

did spend one entire lesson on matching colours with skin tone.

My git with style, DeeAndra, is precisely why I am an unqualied

success.

Thats true, Pud said brightly. You are an unqualifed success. . . especially with women who want to look like Middle Eastern

dictators wives.

Barry rubbed his hands together. Ready or your big day out,

Marge?

My word, she said, tugging at the doorhandle.

Ill get the special guest, Walter said.

Pudding opened the car door, Hop in, Gran. Margery started toclimb into the car but Judith called, No! She retrieved a towel rom

the back and spread it on the seat or her mother and Mrs Parsons

to sit on. Pudding eased Marge into the car, and Walter arrived with

Mrs Parsons, a small, nut-coloured old woman clinging to his purple

suit, her little brown legs coming out o the bottom o her coat like

in a kiddies drawing. Walter placed her on the back seat as though

she was a new moth and squeezed in beside her. Pudding strapped

the two old ladies and her uncle in, made hersel comortable



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11

in the dickie seat, and o they went in Barrys almost-new Mercedes

to the Tropic Hotel, an establishment renowned or its succulent

tropical decor.

On the short trip, Mrs Parsons and Margery stared wondrously

at the Elms along Royal Parade, the stately terrace houses, the taut

joggers and ubsy city workers toiling around Princes Park, and the

portentous stone buildings o Melbourne University.

Its all changed, Mrs Parsons said, and Walter concurred, Fings

do change, dont they?

In the city, Margery stared at the shoppers and bankers, shop

assistants and oce workers, the milling students and the tourists.

These days its like were in another country, she snied, and Pudding

rolled her eyes. Theyre just people, Gran, like you and me.

In the underground car park Barry waited patiently while Walter

helped the aged birthday girl and her decrepit riend rom the car.Pudding walked her grandmother and, behind them, Walter came

slowly with Mrs Parsons curled at his elbow. Judith, eeling pleased

and important to be going out to a posh hotel with her husband,

caught Barrys arm as he rushed purposeully towards to the lit. Its

like taking a couple o raisins out, isnt it?

Yeah.

Youre right about the old peoples home, she said, struggling tokeep up in her new high heels. I mean, i Mrs Bists house got six

hundred grand . . . and Pud will be at uni next year, and Ill have

expanded into counselling . . . Well, it is a good time or you to go

into a business.

Yeah, he said and removed her hand rom his arm. He hurried to

press the lit button.

Theres never going to be a shortage o old people, is there?

she called.



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He missed the lit, so again, Barry had to wait. The old ladies

altered at the small gap between the foor and the lit, but stepped

gamely over it and moved to the back, clinging to the handrail,

and were soundlessly transported to the oyer. By the time the lit

stopped, Barry had managed to distance himsel rom his wie again.

Stepping into the oyer, he glanced around and made a beeline or the

restaurant, but he was spotted by a concerned young man with an

indoor complexion. Mr Boyle! Were we expecting you? Im sorry

No, mate, Barry said, cutting him o. The in-laws. He jerked

his head and the concierge turned to see a large, heavily made-up

woman with big hair lumbering towards him in a diamant-studded,

knee-length kite dress. Mrs Boyle? he said, astonished, but Judith

had stopped to squint up into the atrium. Creeping across the oyer

behind her was a withered little Islander woman and a sunken old

lady wearing glasses that didnt sit well on her old ace. Both ladies

carried at least two handbags each and were dressed or winter. Withthem was a dilapidated, oversized bodgie in an undersized purple

suit and a strapping, stylish young woman typing on a mobile phone

as she walked.

Got a booking, Barry said. It took a moment, but the concierges

arm shot up, his ngers clicked and a waiter arrived and led the

group to a table in a corner behind an imitation rubber plant. The

Blandons sat, looking up at the plastic potted palm ronds peepingrom all orty-three balconies, and the indoor rainorest bathed in

sky-lit air, colourul plastic parrots dotting its branches. In keeping

with the ambiance, the urniture was cane and the carpet a busy

pattern o hibiscus and lyrebirds.

Its real nice here, Barry, Judith said, taking a bottle o sparkling

wine rom her bag. She ripped the cork out eortlessly and lled her

water tumbler, and as she drank Pudding took the bottle rom her and

poured some or Margery and Mrs Parsons. When a waiter arrived



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with a scotch and Coke or Barry, Judith asked or an ice bucket and

a list o the sorts o champagnes youve got, and Pudding asked or

a vodka and red cordial. Walter wiped his sweaty brow with his table

napkin and told the waiter hed happily kill anyone or a beer but the

doctor would kill him, so hed better have dry ginger ale, in a seven-

ounce beer glass, i you dont mind, thanks, bud.

Barrys mobile phone rang, and Pudding reached across and

snatched it rom the table beore her ather could. Hello? Then she

smirked at her ather and said, Wow, Dad, what a surprise, its your

secretary . . . again!

Judith poured hersel more sparkling wine and Barry grabbed the

phone, walking away with it. Yes, Charmaine, whats the problem?

Pudding looked around the hotel and said, This is very special

or you, isnt it, Gran?

Very special, Margery replied, and everyone smiled and raised

their glasses, but beore they could say happy birthday Margeryadded, Though armrests on dining table chairs are uncalled or.

Judith pointed out to everyone that the Tropic was a skyscraper

hotel, Its got an opening that goes all the way up to the sky, see? And

theres an indoor orest and waterall right there in the oyer.

Its called a water eature, Pudding corrected. Lets go or a ride

to the top, Gran. Margery hesitated, but Mrs Parsons moved about

between the armrests, so Walter pulled her chair out and Margerygathered her courage and ollowed. Coming? Pudding called back,

but Walter was staring at the waitress at the next table and Barry was

still talking to Charmaine.

When Judith stepped into the lit, Margery patted Mrs Parsons

arm reassuringly. Its quite sae. The sign there says it can take

ve hundred kilograms.

At the top a mans voice said, Level orty-three, and Mrs Parsons

asked, How does he know?



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14

Its pre-recorded, Pudding said. Margery and Mrs Parsons

nodded, though they were no wiser.

Judith and Pudding went to the high balustrade and looked

down to the carpet orty-three foors below. Margery stayed by the

lit. There were no chairs to sit on, so she perched on the edge o the

potted palm and watched a amily try to get into their room. A girl,

aged about ten, swiped the key card and opened the door or her

mother, while her brother and ather struggled with their luggage.

Mrs Parsons wasnt tall enough to see over the balustrade, so she

came back and stood next to Margery. I went in an aeroplane once.

What does it look like rom up there? Margery asked.

I had the aisle seat.

Ater a short time they descended in the lit, Mrs Parsons grabbing

her beret, and made their way across the oyer, satised that theyd

been all the way to the top. As they settled again at the table, Barry

said, Top suicide spot, this place. Take it rom me, it can kill a lovelymeal when someone lands.

Pudding looked at the busy carpet and said, The foors the right

colour.

Barry explained that all the chairs had been removed rom the

balconies so people couldnt use them to climb onto the balustrade

to jump o.

Occupational health and saety, Walter said importantly. Wekeep the balcony door locked at the hostel too.

Thats because all the residents are drunks, Judith said, pouring

the last o the champagne into her water tumbler.

Walter ignored her. Were converting the lodging house into a

hostel or international travellers.

You mean backpackers, Pud said.

Walter lited his chin and jerked his head to loosen his neck.

Jobll be right.



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The waiter appeared again and asked i they were ready to order.

Judith asked or another bottle o champagne and the others turned

their attention to the menu.

Things were still relatively pleasant, even ater the dessert dishes

were cleared. Barry toyed with his nine-carat rolled gold cufinks

the right cu read Sell and the let Buy and talked at length

about some o the houses hed sold, how he was set to make a

ortune when the Brunswick boom reached Reservoir. Walter related

to them again, blow by blow, how hed won the 1983 middleweight

championship ght against Archie the Annihilator. Pudding drank

three vodka and red cordials, and on her way back rom the ladies

missed a step, ell into a potted palm but was righted again by Justin,

the matre d, beore anyone noticed. Judith placed her palm on Mrs

Parsons red beret and watched it disappear into her uzzy Islander

hair, explaining loudly and in great detail the process required to

straighten it. Margery dropped a prawn and wasnt able to retrieveit rom the colourul ern ronds in the carpet. When she tapped the

side o her glass with her bread knie to say a ew words the waiter

started tidying dishes. Anyone require anything more? He leaned

down to take Judiths plate. Coee, perhaps, Mrs Boyle?

Judith said shed loveanothabottleashampers, thanks, and Barry

said, Just the bill, mate.

When it came Barry told Walter he could pay or his motherand Mrs Parsons, but Walter had only brought twenty dollars so

Mrs Parsons gave him a ve-dollar note and Margery paid the

balance. They were standing to leave, Mrs Parsons turning rom side

to side between the armrests, when Walter said, The watch, Judi.

Oh, yes! Pudding pulled back her mothers sleeve and there,

pressing into the fesh o her wrist, was Margerys watch: delicate,

pink-gold and ancient. Pudding unlatched it and Judith said, Youll

love this, Marge. I got it xed.



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I paid hal, Walter added.

Margery took the watch gently in her sot ngers and was taken

back to the dim, rarely used ront parlour in her childhood home

and Cecily. They sat side by side on the couch, wearing their Sunday-

best dresses, bows in their hair. Their mother was there, proud

and pleased, their brothers and sisters squirming with suppressed

excitement, and their ather came slowly into the room in his dark,

immaculate railway station uniorm and stood ceremoniously in ront

o them. Margery thought she saw tears in his eyes. Youre thirteen

now, he said, and their mother dabbed her tears with a hanky.

Teenagers! he said, and rom behind his back brought two fat,

satin-covered boxes and held them out to the girls. Cecily wrenched

the box rom its pretty wrapping immediately, while Margery untied

the ribbon and rolled it neatly around her ngers. Then she careully

peeled away the wrapping paper and olded it, smoothing it to an

even square. Cecily snapped the clasp closed on her wrist Its threeoclock! just as Margery opened her box.

We got a watch each, Margery said. Exactly the same. She

showed the watch to Mrs Parsons.

Marge had a twin sister, Judith said. Did I tell you that,

DeeAndra?

About ty times.

She died, Judith said, and drained the last o her champagne.Hold it up to your ear, Walter said, so Margery held it up to

her ear.

Oh my, its ticking! Thank you, Walter. She slid it onto her wrist.

Judith said, I took it all the way to the city, Marge, especially. To a

specialist old-time jeweller Barry knows.

Margery was trying to asten the latch on the wristband,

but her ngers were no longer agile. She said, Ill have to get a

new band.



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Tell us the time, Marge, Judith said, but Margery couldnt see

the hands, so Judith reached over and took the watch rom her

mother. Well, that was a waste o my well-earned time and money.

She dropped it into her handbag. Lets go.

Thats Mumsys watch, Judi, Walter protested, but his mother

waved his concern away, pressed her hat into place, gathered up her

handbag and turned to the waiter.

Thank you, son she said. It was good o you to try and make it

special.

Behind her, Judith protested, I organised it, and Walter added,

It was my idea.

It all went completely to mud when they dropped Margery back

at home. As they pulled up outside 253 Gold Street, Mrs Parsons

was already trying to locate the doorhandle. Thank you or a lovely

outing, youre very kind, now I really must say goodbye.The partys not over yet, Walter said. He opened the door or her

and lited her out o the car, placing her gently on the road. Come

in or a cuppa.

I really should get home, she said, but it was no use. Although

her little brown legs reached towards her house, Walter steered her

straight through Margerys gateway and into the house. He eased

her coat rom her small bony shoulders, olded it neatly over the armo the couch and settled her in Lances old chair next to Margery.

Pudding put the kettle on. Then Walter got Margerys slippers and,

just as Judith came in rom the lavatory, turned the ceiling an on.

Four blades o fu, dust and crusty fies dislodged and landed on

her special hair. Barry laughed, and thats when Judith said shouted,

actually, though Margery wasnt dea You should be in a nice

air-conditioned home, Marge.

Barry told her to pipe down.



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No, Barry. Youre right. She should be in a retirement home.

Mrs Parsons tried to nudge hersel orwards in her chair.

Barry glared at his wie. You could have waited until ater her

birthday.

Mrs Parsons raised her creaky little arm or Walter to help her get

up. I really should get going, but Walter was busy stepping rom

one oot to the other, rubbing his nose with his palm.

Judith kept on, You have to admit, she hasnt got as much

dexteritiveness these days, have you, Marge?

Margery said, I dropped the prawn because the chairs were too ar

rom the table, but Judith just said, Im talking about the all you had,

and lited up Margerys oot by the toe o her slipper. She pointed to

the gauze held to her cigarette-paper-thin skin with blue bandaids.

Walter stopped stepping rom oot to oot. Have a little all, did

you, Mumsy?

I tripped, Margery said desperately. Its the ootpath.

It had happened the day beore as she made her way back rom

doing up Mrs Parsons shoelaces. She stopped to check the

letterbox sometimes there was a card rom Morris and as she

moved away, sorting through the specials brochures and advertising

material, the toe o her slipper caught the edge o the ootpath

and down she went. The sky circled and the ootpath came up, andshe grabbed the bin as she passed on her way down. There was

a terrible crunch and Margery said, Oh dear, but it was just the

geranium bush. At the time, the young couple whod purchased

Mrs Bists place, Tony and Miriana, were in their ront yard talking

about windows, but they didnt notice her. It was Tyson who saw her

marbled, bleeding shin sticking out rom under the bin. He nudged

it with the toe o his boot and, while he dialled his mother on his

mobile phone, ailed to notice Margery had raised her hand.



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Guess what? Another crustaceans carked it. The sack o bones

rom 253s in the fower bush.

You were nice when you were a little boy, Margery said, which

wasnt strictly true. He wandered away and soon his mother, Bonita,

came jogging down the street in her dressing gown, a towel around

her shoulders and her hair plastered with a muddy mix o charcoal-

brown permanent hair dye. She knelt beside Margery. Did you break

anything, Mrs B?

The geraniums, Margery said, thinking the dye in Bonitas hair

was too dark or someone her age.

Bonita reached or her phone. Whats Judiths number?

Theres no need to phone her, Margery said, scrambling onto her

hands and knees with an agility she didnt know she had.

Bonita helped her up. Youre lucky, Mrs Blandon. I youd allen

in the backyard you could have ended up like Mrs Bist.

Never. Mrs Parsons would have known something was up whenI didnt show up to untie her laces.

Bonita helped her inside. She put the kettle on, stuck an adhesive

bandaid to the ragile skin on Margerys torn shin and let, saying,

Give us a hoy i you need anything urgent, eh, Mrs B?

And now Judith was using the all as a weapon. She put her hands on

her hips, pulling the abric o her kite dress against her tummy apron.We know what it means or old people when they start to all, dont

we? And, may I remind you all, she has to use a commode at night.

Shesalways had a pot, Walter said. They all had them as kids.

Its normal.

No, its not! Pud called rom the kitchen, and Barry said

knowledgably, Its like an en suite, eh, Wally, only old-ashioned?

Ive still got most o my own teeth, Margery said proudly, but no

one heard.



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20

Its her eet. She should be wearing her new slippers, said

Walter.

Margery looked to Mrs Parsons or support, but Mrs Parsons, her

ngers curled around the end o the armrests, was trying to lever

hersel out o the chair. Lance had sat in that chair or over ty

years, and his ather beore him, so the springs and horsehair rested

on the linoleum, and Mrs Parsons had no chance o raising her small

bottom rom the cavity.

She has to go to a home sooner or later, Judith said, but

Margery objected, I cant go to a home. Wholl do Mrs Parsons

laces?

Slip-ons, Barry said, and Mrs Parsons closed her eyes, pursed

her lips and pulled hard on the armrests.

Walter, stepping rom oot to oot, said, You dont have to go,

Mumsy. You dont have to go, and Barry said, Judith, why dont

we wait until ater weve had the dinner with our new partners?and Pudding said, Youre not partners yet! and placed two mugs o

weak, milky tea on the small table between Margery and Mrs Parsons.

Margery looked sideways at the tea-leaves foating on the top.

Judith counted o Margerys ailments on her ngers: Shes

inrm, shes not as dexterous as she used to be, shes got bad eet

and a bad heart shes a cripple. She cant even change her sheets

anymore.Margery said, Cheryl changes my sheets.

See? She needs a home helper and shesorgotten! Cheryls gone,

remember?

Theres a new home help coming Tuesday, Margery said.

Everyone knows home helpers steal all your antique jewellery

pinch the wedding ring right o your nger and sell it at Cash

Converters but theres no need to worry about your pearls, is there,

Marge? Got them well and truly hidden, eh, Marge?



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Margery looked at her ring nger, the fesh narrow where the thin

gold band had rubbed or almost sixty years. Im not sure where my

wedding ring is, she said absently.

Judith said, See? Forgetul.

But I dont see why I have to leave my home, Margery

declared.

Walter turned sideways, his right punching hand raised to his

chin, and said to his imaginary opponent, On Tuesday shes getting

a new home help.

Judith nodded emphatically. My point is proven. She needs help,

her memorys gone and her bad heart complicates her diminished

mobility, and because o that shell end up like Mrs Bist!

Im just a bit sti in the mornings!

Judith shouted, Thats what I mean, Marge. Diminished mobility!

And thats when Margery said quietly, I can still get out o a chair.

Mrs Parsons roze between the armrests. Walter stopped rocking.Everyone looked at Judith. She fushed deep red rom her diamant-

trimmed dcolletage to her cheeks.

Thats not air, Marge.

Pudding said, What does Gran mean about the chair, Mum?

Margery examined a cross-stitch fower on the corner o her

hanky, and Mrs Parsons put her arm up again. Barry pointed at the

ceiling and said, Pressed tin. Good selling point. Walter started rocking, again, raised his sts and dodged an

invisible let jab. This was sposed to be a party, or Mumsy.

Pudding asked again, What chair is Gran talking about? but

Judith just clutched her sparkling bodice and wilted, as i her mother

had stabbed her.

Barry looked at his watch. Its time we were long gone.

Pudding persisted, What is it about a chair thats upsetting you,

Sajida?



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Stop calling me that!

Well, stop dressing like Saddam Husseins wie!

Well go now, Judith said, Come on, Wally, well give you a lit.

Her voice caught in her throat.

Walter said he wasnt ready to go yet, so Judith pleaded, Well give

you a lit, and nudged Barry, who said with eigned nonchalance,

Sure. No trouble to drive all the way to Collingwood or you,

Wally.

Walter stopped dead. He lowered his sts and wound his head

to loosen his neck. He stepped close to Barry, put his ace close.

Jobs right.

Barry raised his hands in surrender, and Pudding prodded her

mother Tell us about the chair? but Judith just played with her

mothers watch on her wrist.

Mrs Parsons said, I really should get going.

Finally, Barry looked down at her, smiled gallantly, We should allget going, and oered her his arm. He prised her out o the sunken

chair, then Walter helped her on with her coat and walked her down

the side o the house to her back door. Mrs Ahmed, who lived on

the other side o Mrs Parsons, stopped picking plums and turned,

smiling at them rom the tree, her brown ace bordered by her bright

headscar, while Puddings voice carried across the small, concrete

and corrugated iron yards: You started the story about the chair,Gran, now you should nish it.

When he got back, Walter ound Margery calmly cross-stitching

while Judith ransacked the house. Pudding ollowed her mother,

badgering as she searched or Margerys pearls, shaking boxes and

cartons in the pantry, opening all the rozen vegetable packages in

the reezer.

Its about time you gave up, Judi. Youll get the pearls when

Mumsys ready, you know that, but Judith up-ended the peg



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basket into the old copper then moved to the bathroom, where she

opened old denture containers and drained every bottle rom the

cabinet into the bath bleach, moisturiser, disinectant then went

through the rst-aid tin beore tapping the walls in search o secret

compartments.

Barry was pacing around the clothesline, talking on his BlackBerry.

Walter paced the lounge room, counting back rom ten over and

over in his mind, clenching and unclenching his sts, Calm like a

canvas, Walter, calm like an empty venue. He stopped, pressed his

arms to his sides and said, The pearls belong to Mumsy.

Next door, Mrs Parsons sat on her bed in the ront room, her hands

over her ears, the sound o Judith bawling on and on Inrm. Shes

inrm! and Pudding screeching The chair? Tell me! warbling

over the back ences. Finally, the Boyles let. She watched them pile

into their car, Barry saying, Six hundred and ty thousand dollars.

I told you, Judith, theres money in these little workers cottages, buteven Mrs Parsons knew six hundred thousand dollars was ar too

much to pay or a detached, two-bedroom weatherboard cottage with

kitchen and bathroom tacked onto the back and outside lavatories,

even i they were situated close to the park.

Documents

There Should Be More Dancing by Rosalie Ham Sample Chapter