'And a special thanks goes to our tireless typist and odd jobs girl, Miss Mona Beaumont ...'

But Mona was nowhere to be seen. The crowd murmured, their heads swayed. Nancy was leaning against the doorjamb at the back of the hall so waved at Trudy and ducked outside, 'Psst, Mona.'

'What?'

'You're on.' Nancy came inside. 'They're coming,' she yelled and Trudy and Elsbeth smiled at the waiting crowd.

Mona and Lesley stumbled back into the hall and the crowd began to clap. They moved to the stage and Mona stepped up to stand between her mother and her sister-in-law. The clapping dwindled and someone giggled. There was a murmur from the crowd as feet shuffled, ladies covered their mouths and men looked at the ceiling.

It was then that Lesley noticed. Mona's frock was inside out.

Tilly stood in her cottage, surrounded by colourful debris. The past two weeks had been a period of intense hand-st.i.tching, draping and shaping, and there was the ball to come. Teddy arrived wearing a pair of new blue denim Levi jeans, a brilliant white T-shirt and a leather jacket with lots of zippers and studs. His hair shone with Brylcream and he had developed an insolent, upper body lean and matching pout. It suited him. She looked at him and smiled. 'You're going to wear leather and denim to the Social Committee's first-ever event?'

'What are you wearing?'

'I'm not going.'

'Come on.' He stepped towards her.

'I've got nothing to wear.'

'Just whip something up, you'll look better than any of them anyway.'

She smiled and said, 'That won't do me much good, will it?'

'Let's just sit in a corner and watch all those beautiful creations swinging about the hall on Miss Dimm and Lois and Muriel.' He stopped. 'I see what you mean.' He slumped into the chair by the fire and put his boots up on the wood box.

Molly looked over to Teddy, lifted her top lip and sent a fine line of spittle into the flames with her tongue. 'You think you're good-looking don't you?' she said to him.

'We could go to Winyerp to the pictures,' said Teddy, 'or we could sit here with Molly all night.'

'What's on?' asked Tilly, brightly.

'Sunset Boulevard, with Gloria Swanson.'

'You two go ahead to the pictures and have a lovely time,' said Molly. 'Don't worry about me, I'll be all right here ... alone, by myself. Again.'

Molly insisted on sitting in the front of Teddy's Ford for her first-ever ride in a car. 'If I'm going to die I'd like to see the tree I'm going to splatter against,' she said, then demanded that they sit right at the front of the picture theatre directly under the screen. She sat between them, hooting and laughing at Tom and Jerry, then made loud, detracting comments about everything else. 'That's not really a car they're in, it's pretend ... He's not very convincing is he? ... She's just kissed him and her lipstick's not smudged and her eyes look like armpits ... Stand up and get out of the way I need to get to the lav, quickly!'

At home they offered to help her to bed but she was reluctant. 'I don't feel sleepy,' she said and looked above at the starry sky to stifle a yawn. Teddy went inside and got a gla.s.s, poured firewater from his flask and handed it to Molly. She drank it and held her gla.s.s out for more. He looked at Tilly, who looked down at the hall lights from where fragments of conversation drifted up, so he gave Molly another splash of watermelon wine. Very shortly they were lifting her onto her bed.

They sat out under the stars again, watching the Dungatar hall flicker to darkness and the socialites disperse.

Teddy turned to her. 'Where did you go from here?'

'To Melbourne, to school.'

'And then where?'

She didn't reply. He looked impatient and said, 'Come on it's me, not them.'

'It's just I've never really talked about it until now.'

He kept his eyes on her, willing her. Finally she said, 'I got a job in a manufacturing factory. I was supposed to work there forever and repay my "benefactor" but it was horrible. At least it was a clothing factory.'

'Did you know who your benefactor was?'

'I always knew.'

'Then?'

'I ran away. I went to London.'

'Then Spain.'

'Then Spain, Milan, Paris.' She looked away from him.

'Then? There's more, isn't there?'

She stood up. 'I think I'll go inside now '

'All right, all right.' He caught her by the ankle, and she didn't seem to mind, so he stood and slid an arm about her shoulders and she leaned against him, just a little bit.

17.

Mona eventually stopped crying because Lesley started to giggle about it. By then Trudy and Elsbeth had thought of a solution.

'You'll have to marry her ...' said Elsbeth.

The way to solve everything.

Lesley sat down suddenly, 'But I don't want to get '

'... or leave town,' said Trudy.

Lesley had Tilly run him up new riding attire sky blue and pink silks and close fitting, immaculate white jodhpurs. He sent to RM Williams in Adelaide for new knee-high riding boots with Cuban heels. Mona wore her bridesmaid's dress with a white rose pinned behind her ear. It was a quiet ceremony in the front garden at Windswept Crest. Sergeant Farrat conducted the brief ceremony. William drove Mr and Mrs Lesley Muncan to the railway station. They waved to him as their train moved out, standing there with his pipe in his teeth with Hamish and Beula. The Dungatar Social Committee had donated two railway tickets as a wedding gift, so Mr and Mrs Lesley Muncan were to spend a night in the Grand Suite at the Grand Hotel overlooking the river at Winyerp.

When the newlyweds returned to the reception counter a mere five minutes after the publican had shown them to their suite, he was very surprised.

'We're off to see the sights,' said Lesley. 'We'll collect the key about 5:30 and will be down for dinner at 6:00.'

'Zup to youse,' said the publican and winked.

After dinner, they went upstairs. At the door of the Grand Suite the big corner room with the arched window situated nearest the bathroom Lesley turned to his new wife and said, 'I have a surprise for you.'

'Me too.' Tilly had run up two items for Mona's trousseau, one of which was a rather 'fast' negligee Tilly's design.

Lesley flung open the door to the Grand Suite. On a pot plant stand next to the bed sat an enamel jug packed with ice-cubes and a bottle of sparkling wine. Two seven-ounce beer gla.s.ses sat beside it and between the gla.s.ses a card was propped. Embossed gold wedding bells and streamers spelled 'Congratulations'. Inside the card the publican's wife had written, 'Congrats + Good Luck from all us X X X'.

'Oh Maestro,' said Mona, 'I'll be back in one moment.' She grabbed her suitcase and disappeared next door into the bathroom. Lesley ran to the men's, leaned over the toilet bowl and started dry retching. He returned eventually, sweaty-palmed and ashen to the Grand Suite where Mona reclined nervously on the chenille bedspread in her new negligee.

Lesley was overcome. 'OhmyG.o.d, Mona.' He took her hands and pulled her up then stood back and walked around her twice. Then he rustled into her fine silk peignoir up to his elbows and said, 'Mona it's just GOR-gess!' He opened the wine, filled their gla.s.ses and they twined arms and sipped. Mona flushed.

'I don't think I'll have too much wine ... darling.'

'Nonsense,' said Les and pecked her cheek. 'You'll do as you're told you naughty wife or I'll make you whip me with your riding crop.' They squealed and clinked their gla.s.ses.

Halfway through the first bottle Lesley produced another from his suitcase and plunged it into the ice. Halfway through the second bottle Mona pa.s.sed out so Lesley finished the last of the champagne, wrapped folds of his wife's peignoir about his neck and shoulders, popped his thumb in his mouth and slept, nuzzling deep in silk folds which were tinted with fragrance of lily-of-the-valley.

Mona woke feeling headachy. The first thing she saw was her new husband posing in the window dressed, spruced and ready to catch the train home. Mona's heart was sluggish, saturated with hurt, her chin quivered and a sad lump as big as a quince stuck at her tonsils. She could hardly swallow. Not even so much as a cuddle.

'Come now wife,' smiled Les, 'there's a nice hot cuppa waiting for us downstairs.'

Back at Windswept Crest Trudy showed her her old room it was a nursery now then her mother handed her a cheque.

'Mother ...' Mona's face lifted.

'It's not a gift, it's your inheritance. I've been to a great deal of trouble for it. As you can see it's made out to Alvin Pratt Real Estate, a deposit for that vacant cottage in town.' She turned on her heel and as she pa.s.sed through the stable doorway she called behind her, 'You're Lesley's responsibility now.'

That afternoon Mr and Mrs Lesley Muncan moved to the workman's cottage between Evan and Marigold Pettyman's orderly house and Alvin and Muriel Pratt's comfortable weatherboard.

Faith cut out letters from a Women's Weekly and painstakingly pasted them together on pink cardboard to make up the words, then she drew balloons and streamers weaving through the letters and sprinkled glitter on Clag. She cut out a bell from a Christmas card and pasted it on an angle next to the word 'Bell'.

Come one come all start the football season dancing Dungatar Social Club Ball Featuring the new music of the new 'Faithful O'Briens', AND.

BELL OF THE BALL.

Bookings Bobby or Faith.

Hamish was waving the afternoon train in as Faith glanced over on her way to Pratts. When the train had stopped he a.s.sisted a strange woman to step down from the carriage onto the platform. She looked around anxiously before asking, 'When is the next train out?'

'Day after tomorrow, 9:30 sharp, it'll be a D Cla.s.s Steamer '

'Is there a bus?'

Hamish put his hands behind his back and crossed his fingers. 'No,' he said.

'Thank you,' she said and stepped away.

Hamish pointed at Edward McSwiney waiting at the doorway with his cart, 'Ye can catch a ride to the hotel with our cab there,' he said. The woman placed a gloved finger under her nose and pointed to her pigskin suitcases standing on the platform between the mailbags and the crated chickens. Hamish handed them up to Edward and the stranger picked up her attache case and walked cautiously around Graham, giving him a very wide berth. She picked her way along the broken cement footpaths in her alligator skin court shoes, and at last stood in the foyer of the Station Hotel, removing her sungla.s.ses and gloves, and clearing her throat. Fred looked up from his paper and searched the bar. She cleared her throat again and Fred wandered through to the residential entrance. He considered her over the rim of his bifocals: the dusty slippers, skinny but shapely calves, the pencil line skirt and tent jacket which she removed to reveal a white shirt tailored entirely of broderie anglaise. He could see her underwear.

'Are you lost?'

'I'd like a room for two nights please ... with a bath.' She held out her coat to him. Fred put down his form guide, folded the coat over his arm and smiled graciously. 'Certainly madam, you may have the room next to the bathroom. It's a share bathroom but you're the only customer along with Mr Pullit and he hasn't bathed in nine years, so it's all yours. It's a nice room, west-facing windows which will give you a view to the setting sun, a featured hilltop cottage and sweeping vista beyond.'

Edward came through the front door and placed her suitcases gently at her knees. 'Thank you,' she said and smiled faintly at him, then looked back at Fred, who bowed, took up her cases and led her upstairs. She inspected the room, opened the cupboard doors, sat on the bed, lifted a pillow to check the linen and then looked at herself in the mirror.

'Travelling far?' asked Fred.

'I thought a night or two in the country would be refreshing.' She looked at Fred. 'That is what I thought anyway.'

'Will you be eating this evening?'

'That depends,' she said and wandered out onto the balcony.

Fred told her that if she needed anything just to yell out, and rushed downstairs to find Purly.

The stranger sat in the afternoon sun. She lit a cigarette and inhaled, then glanced down at the people in the main street, noticed their dresses and stopped, agape. The women of Dungatar dressed astonishingly well, strolling from the library to the chemist and back again in luxurious frocks, showing flair in pant suits made from synthetic fabric, relaxing in the park in sun frocks with asymmetric necklines common to European couture. She went downstairs to the Ladies Lounge and found a group chatting at a table, drinking lemon squash and wearing Balenciaga copies with astrakhan trims. She peeped out the residential entrance door and studied a group of women holding common cane baskets, reading something in the general store's window. A fat woman with unsightly hair wore a streamlined, waistless wool crepe, princess-cut frock with a standaway collar and magyar sleeves, which hung like cold honey and flattered her fridge-like form. A small, pointy woman wore a soft pink suit, double-breasted and wide-collared with revers and purple trim, all of which softened her leather-like complexion. Next to her, leaning on a broom, a girl with a boyish figure wore a design she was sure had not yet even been invented. It was a fine black wool dress with a shallow boat-shaped neckline and short sleeves. The bodice bloused gently into a wide, black calfskin belt with a huge black buckle. The skirt was narrow and knee length! There was a blonde showing great panache in satin-velour pedal-pushers, a shopkeeper in a smart faille tunic suit, and a small, taut woman in silk capri pants and a very chic sleeveless paletot. The stranger went back to her room to smoke her cigarettes. She wondered how Paris had found its way to the dilapidated confines and neglected torsos of ba.n.a.l housewives in a rural province.

'Faith's done a good job with the notice,' declared Ruth.

They all nodded.

'Very artistic,' said Marigold.

'Doesn't say how much it costs,' sniped Beula.

'It's always the same,' said Lois.

'Not this time,' said Beula, nodding vigorously. 'The club needs new umpires' outfits and Faith's charging for the band they've been practising a lot, they've got new songs ... and another new name.'

'Well, you'd know,' said Purl.

Beula put her hands on her hips. 'And, Winyerp's coming.'

They stared at her.

'Winyerp's comink?' asked Lois.

Beula closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

'Better book a table ...' said Muriel.

'... next to each other,' added Lois.

They looked again at the notice.