CHAPTER TWENTY
Expectations Part 1
January to June 1999
As new calendars were going up and old ones were coming down, I was not the only person in the world wondering what the year would bring. But I had more immediate concerns than worrying about something that may never happen. By New Year’s Day, Ann was all but gone from the Stafford house leaving Kristen in a quandary. She didn’t want to move back home but she couldn’t afford the rent by herself either. I told her everything would sort itself out. I was good at telling others that, but not so good at telling myself.
From January 4th, Annette and Vicky were away for a fortnight so I was working with Roberta. I had only seen her twice before. The first time was shortly after I started work at Grange Place Physiotherapy Centre. She came in just as I was leaving one night. I had no idea she was coming so I told her Annette could see no one else that day. She blushed like a fresh-faced schoolgirl when she said she was there on a private matter. More than a week elapsed before Annette told me who she was and why she had come. Accommodating the demands of two physiotherapists working as independent practitioners meant she had to spend money she could ill afford. On top of that, her lease was up for renewal mid-year and her landlord had recently retired. That meant she would be dealing with his daughter, an unknown quantity. It was a huge gamble. If it paid off, she would be laughing all the way to the bank. If it didn’t, she was up the proverbial creek without a paddle.
On our first day Roberta and I both had equipment failures to deal with. On the second day she had to manage on her own. I was in hospital having a procedure called an endoscopy. Its purpose was to determine if I had Coeliac Disease. Thankfully, I didn’t. It was the last step on the long journey I embarked upon after seeing the iridologist at the psychic fair the previous May. When the cyst was confirmed, my doctor reluctantly sent me for an allergy test. I wasn’t allergic to wheat, but because I had on-going digestive problems he sent me for a blood test. The ambiguous result convinced him to refer me to a specialist. It was he who ordered the endoscopy.
On the third day, Roberta and I arrived to find no appointment book, no messages, and a new patient waiting outside. It fell to the dental nurse across the road to tell us about Rachel, the podiatrist next door. Because I hadn’t come in and Roberta left early Rachel upheld the long-standing agreement she had with Annette. She let herself in get the appointment book and divert the phone to her own business. The trouble was she left it that way. She remembered on the way to work so, after stopping to ring the dental nurse to explain what happened, she had a car accident. She wasn’t badly hurt, but the chaotic chain of events she set in motion continued throughout the day.
In spite of such upheavals, or perhaps because of them, Roberta and I got along fine, but it was all business. She kept her private life to herself. That all changed when she was leaving for lunch one day and paused by the desk to tell me she noticed an Edgar Cayce book in my bag. That simple observation went on to forge a lifelong friendship.
The following Monday, Annette and Vicky were back at work. I missed working full time, and I missed the responsibility that went with it. But most of all I missed working with Roberta, although I knew she would be back. In the third week of January, Kristen and Che went house hunting. She needed something immediately so she settled for an “affordable” flat at Lutwyche. He had the luxury of time, and as he was seeking a suitable place to share with his good mate and former school friend, Gregg, he could afford to wait. I knew it was only a matter of time before he found it and I couldn’t shake the feeling that when he went, so would Tamara.
On January 20th, two days after Tamara started her new job, I got a call from Aunty Kathleen. Her grandson, Wade, who had been battling leukaemia, was gone. Although I had only seen him a few times I felt an affinity to Wade because of Che. The two boys were kindred spirits and Kathleen knew it. Whatever she bought Che for Christmas and birthdays, she bought for Wade and she was never wrong. Wade was the second of my cousin, Katherine’s, two children. Katherine was a year younger than me. In those dark days after Mum died, she did her best to help me adjust. Unfortunately, she was no match for her sister.
In early February, Tianni was diagnosed with asthma, sending poor Kristen into a new spiral of worry. Around the same time, Rachel told Annette she heard a Bowen Therapist was looking at the vacant unit on the other side of Annette’s. This concerned Annette so much she had me ringing Natural Therapy colleges in a bid to find something she could use against her landlady. The terms of her lease were very specific. The old man would simply have accepted defeat. His daughter was made of sterner stuff and it wasn’t long before she gave Annette reason to suspect she had been outplayed.
By the time Roberta was back the plan had changed. When Annette made the decision to bring her in she was working ten to twelve hour days. She was tired, run down, and desperate. By February, her patient load had slowed to a trickle and she was in dire financial straits. The money she spent transforming three cubicles into four might as well have been tossed in the bin. It was distressing to see. Roberta found supplementary employment at the Mater Hospital so her two afternoons a week weren’t a problem, but they were for me. When I agreed to become Roberta’s receptionist it was because we got along so well. I didn’t expect my hours to be cut from twenty to twelve. They could still go back to twenty when the turnaround came, Annette said, but with Steve between jobs, it was more than an inconvenience.
The day Roberta came back, Kristen started work in a Clayfield café. The hours were long and the pay was low. Oddly enough, her new flat, new life, new job, and new autonomy, none of which was worth crowing about, didn’t sit well with Ann. She had left a man she believed to be a faithless husband for a scheming, manipulative Svengali. My dreams didn’t help either. In one, which was typical of many, I discovered people were swallowing tiny receivers that sent information back to Ian to enable him to further manipulate them. It was so real it took me several minutes to accept it was just a dream. I found it hard to accept he was the same man who helped me solve the riddle of my Letter R doodle.
On February 26th, I did a Tarot reading for Roberta on one of the massage tables. Annette had left for the day, or so we thought, but when we heard her car pull up outside, Roberta panicked and quickly pushed the cards under the pillow. She knew Annette was into spiritual things, but as she said, “There is a time and a place for everything.” She must have looked guilty because Annette gave her the oddest look as she strode past to get something she had forgotten. We waited until we heard her drive away then, giggling like school girls, we retrieved the cards and continued the reading. The next day I could tell Annette was curious, but she resisted the temptation to ask what we were doing, or why I wasn’t at my post, or why Roberta looked like a startled animal mesmerised by approaching headlights.
They were interesting times, although Vicky proved to be the least comfortable with the change. In March, Roberta and I celebrated our birthdays within five days of each other. Five days after my birthday, Annette celebrated hers. We bought her a beautiful palm to put in the corner of the waiting room. Steve brought it in when he came to pick me up the night before. I deliberately included Vicky in the scheme so she wouldn’t feel left out. But I guess she did feel left out. She was a November Scorpio who personified the phrase “Scorpio control freak”. The attractive ex-hairdresser with a dazzling smile and great dress sense had no reason to be jealous of me. Yet she was. And little by little, she did her best to undermine me.
For her birthday, Roberta bought herself a Tarot deck. She decided it best to stick to the traditional Rider Waite despite liking my Robin Wood more. She said I was very good at reading the cards and that she hoped to be half as good in a year or two. The trouble was I didn’t have the confidence to take it any further. I read for family, and friends, and friends of family, and friends of friends. The very thought of doing a reading for someone I didn’t know terrified me. I couldn’t say why. But the fear came from a very deep place. The first card she drew from her new deck was the Page of Cups: a gentle, intuitive water sign. Such a card would seem to sum Roberta up. She was a softly spoken, gentle soul. She was also kind and generous, and she looked much younger than her thirty years.
Yet, on the morning of January 4th, when asking about her, I had drawn the Queen of Pentacles. This card is normally associated with Earth signs, or well-to-do women, or black-haired, earthy, practical, or stubborn women. All I knew about Roberta at the time was that she was black-haired. She was fascinated to hear that because in Astrology, her Ascendant was Capricorn. Beyond the twelve basic star signs I had no knowledge of Astrology. I certainly didn’t know what an Ascendant was. I would soon learn that Roberta knew a little about everything, courtesy of her mother’s interest in all things metaphysical. Edgar Cayce, the American psychic known as “The Sleeping Prophet” because he gave his readings whilst in a trance-like state, was a name Roberta had associated with her mother since she was a small child. Seeing an Edgar Cayce book in my bag was the one thing guaranteed to get her to open up about herself.
One afternoon in March, she told me she was thinking seriously about a share accommodation ad she saw in the weekend newspaper. She even went so far as to look at the place, an old Queenslander at Newmarket under renovation. It left a lot to be desired, she said, although the owner-advertiser was an attractive, athletic man in his early forties. There were myriad reasons why she should avoid it like the plague but she kept going back to the ad. When I heard myself say “You have to be there!” I couldn’t believe it. He was a single man, living in a half-renovated house. Was he legitimately seeking a housemate to help him with renovation costs or was he seeking something else? Then I heard myself say: “It’s karmic. You know him. You were together in a past life.” It was surreal. We were two sensible women. And I was old enough to be her mother! What were we thinking of?
Roberta did move into the house. His name was James. “Friends with benefits” is how their relationship could be described in today’s world. They helped each other grow and mature, and more importantly, they were able to finish off whatever was left unfinished in previous incarnations. An added benefit was that he was into triathlons. She wasn’t, but she was into rowing and bushwalking, so they made great training partners. They also loved the same movies, books, and music. He went on to meet a lovely lady she could accept and long after she moved out and on, she met a man she felt she could spend the rest of her life with. As I write this, James is still with his lady, but Roberta and her man parted company due to his inability to commit to marriage.
On Good Friday, Steve and I went to Shorncliffe to watch the start of the Brisbane to Gladstone yacht race. From there we went to Redcliffe to see the yachts under full sail. The majority of people who gathered on the foreshore came for the race, but some came for the carnival atmosphere. At one clairvoyant’s stall I was advised to seek a new job because my boss was in deep financial trouble. I passed the message on to Roberta because her patient load, like Annette’s, was feast or famine, which only served to keep them hopeful of a turnaround. Knowing the turnaround wasn’t coming made me look seriously at finding another part-time job. It proved to a waste of time and energy because I allowed the only job I could have had, a job that not only sounded interesting it would have slotted in beautifully with my hours, slip through my fingers. I knew I would be expected to relieve Vicky during the upcoming school holidays and I felt I owed Annette some loyalty.
One quiet afternoon after Easter, I told Roberta about the time I sent my first email to Liz on Marita’s computer. I went on to tell her about what Marita said, that Ralph couldn’t condone my interest in the supernatural. I find it interesting how, when confronted with death, people revert to their strict religions upbringing while others become fearful. We never get past the fire and brimstone, I guess.
When Roberta told me I could send emails at any library I was gobsmacked. I had to book in advance, thirty minutes at a time, and set up an email account first, but it was free. Two weeks later, Annette brought me back to earth when she said she only had a month to turn things around. Shortly afterwards I woke dreaming of the Knight of Pentacles. Despite the clairvoyant’s warning, I hoped this foretold a slow but steady improvement. I took that to be the case when on April 20th, I came to work to find Annette and Roberta both fully booked. Sadly, it was an aberration.
On the Anzac Day public holiday, Kristen, Tianni and I went to see The Pharaohs, an exhibition of Egyptian artefacts at the museum. The next day Roberta told me her father died. He was five years older than my father would have been had he lived. I found that extraordinary. What must it have been like for her to grow up with a father old enough to be her grandfather?
On Tuesday May 4th, before starting work, I went to Grange library to email Liz. The eighteen hour time difference should have been an impediment, but we often managed to be online at the same time. Nothing could get to me when I knew she was sitting in front of her computer ready to dash off witty one-liners to my latest complaint about Vicky’s bitchiness. Preferring to be known then as E. G. Boone, Liz was an artist, poet, designer, and jewellery maker. Her two teenage children, James and Danuta, were the offspring of her third husband, Don, a direct descendant of frontiersman, Daniel Boone. Don was a much better catch than her first two husbands, but she wasn’t happy. In the previous ten years she had moved from Los Angeles to San Diego, to a little town in Arizona called Show Low, and back to San Diego. She started making her intricately-beaded necklaces and earrings after meeting a Navajo woman on the side of the road one day. Like everything else Liz did, she was very good at it.
As I had some time to spare after my session, I looked for some books to borrow and noticed a woman following me. Everywhere I went I could feel her behind me and every time I turned around, I caught her staring at me, although she didn’t try to hide the fact. When I couldn’t take it anymore I confronted her. That was when she calmly said: “Is your name Mary Warman? Did you go to St. Columba’s?” I knew her name when she told me but I would not have recognised her. Sharyn Graham! She was like an eager little puppy, desperate to please so after we exchanged phone numbers, I promised her I would ring.
I never forgot how ecstatic I felt when I saw Leigh at a supermarket check-out in 1995. I also remember how sad I felt when she didn’t ring me. Three years went by before I saw her again, in the DIY section of the same supermarket. But I did understand why she hadn’t called. She was in so much pain from standing at her register she could barely function. Sharyn Graham! It was just too weird. Leigh and Sharyn were close friends in high school. At the time, having recently read James Redfield’s classic The Celestine Prophesy, I knew not to discount such coincidences. There was a purpose to it all. I just didn’t know what that purpose could be.
Throughout the afternoon I recalled another day that has been etched into my memory. It was in early February 1966. I was in a car following the hearse that carried my mother’s body to the cemetery. Not far into the journey I got the feeling I had to look up and there they were, Leigh and Sharyn, standing side by side outside a shop staring at the funeral procession. I still remember the feeling I got when I looked into their eyes. It was eerie.
During the next week I discovered Sharyn had run into two other former classmates: Lyn, on a bus, and Ann, in a shopping centre. The result of these meetings was a small, unofficial reunion that gave Ann, who was battling cancer, a sense of place, something she never had at school. Ann was the ne’er do well who, in her second marriage, did very well indeed. She had a wonderfully-supportive husband, beautiful children, and a very, very nice house. Curiously enough, Sharyn didn’t go to Ann’s house that day, although she did attend the next reunion at Lyn’s home. The years to come saw several more reunions take place, all unofficial, but each bigger that than last.
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| High school photo c. 1964 |
By the end of May, Roberta and I were coming in for just one afternoon a week. Luckily, she was able to find another part-time job. In this environment Annette not only renewed her lease, she signed on for a three-year term. She was so focused on protecting herself from future rent rises, she couldn’t see the writing on the wall. It would take a miracle to turn it around, but like the ram that symbolised her star sign, she was not going to give up without a fight. I couldn’t help but admire her spirit.
On June 5th, I went to Nundah with my daughters in the hope of getting a reading with Jason MacDonald. Kristen told me the moment she found out he offered free reradings there. How long this had been going on, she couldn’t say. She only knew they happened at his shop in Aspinall Street, Nundah on the first Saturday of the month. I didn’t even know he had a shop. As the hours dragged by the only sign of life inside the shop was Val, Jason’s receptionist, as she made phone call after phone call. When we arrived, at seven-thirty, only a handful of people were in front of us. An hour later, more than a hundred were in the queue behind us. Although not happy, Steve kept people entertained by playing the fool and when hunger got the better of them, he delivered their orders to the nearby take-away.
Val knew we were there. She just chose to ignore us. At one point, she even walked right past us, saying nothing except “excuse me” to those between her and the mop and bucket she was after. She then returned to the shop without another word. Jason arrived just before midday and Val let us in, a few at a time. However, by then, most of the people were long gone. I often asked myself why we didn’t go, too. It was not like Steve to be so patient for he didn’t suffer fools gladly. We were asked to provide our names and telephone numbers and with profuse apologies, we were sent on our way. Steve and Tamara made up their minds about Jason because of that experience, whereas Kristen and I were more malleable. Or was that gullible?
The month continued in much the same way. Tamara loved her job despite it being challenging. I picked up more hours because Vicky was away, although I was left to my own devices most of the time. Annette worked on demand during the first week of the school holidays, but took the second week off. Roberta was to come in that week only if she had a client. Steve could only get a few days casual work here and there, and Che was convinced his days at Queensland Rail were numbered. His reasoning was that nothing had been said about his contract being renewed. On June 29th, his whole demeanour changed when told he would join the ranks of permanent QR staff from July 1st.
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