Song for Emilia. Julia Osborne

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      Don closed the gate with a soft click. Behind them, as they walked to the car, the coloured lights switched off, returning the street to lamp-lit shadows.

      From down the hallway where Emilia lay asleep in Prue’s bedroom, Sandra could hear her snores.

      Dawn lit the sky before she finally slept, and it seemed like only five minutes passed before the sun poked an irritating light through the slats of her venetian blind.

      Angela knocked on the door. ‘Wakey wakey, rise and shine ...’ Regardless of Sandra’s closed eyes, she flipped open the blind and sat on the bed. ‘What a lovely party – we had so much fun, didn’t we?’

      Sandra rolled over, squinting through slit eyes. ‘Muuum, do we have to wake up? It’s too early.’

      ‘It’s eight o’clock. We want to take you girls on a picnic. Emilia’s leaving tomorrow, and we should do something special for her last day.’

      ‘Ask Emmy. Maybe she’d rather do something else ...maybe just with me.’

      Sandra pulled the sheet over her face, and waited for her mother to get up and leave the room. She knew Emilia wanted to go to the beach again – she wouldn’t want to go on a picnic with Sandra’s mother and father – a whole day out, eating sandwiches off plastic plates in a park somewhere? Uuurggh.

      A thump came from Prue’s room. Unless Emilia had fallen out of bed, she must’ve got up. Wrapping her dressing gown around her, Sandra went to check.

      ‘Ooh, Sandy, look at my hair!’ Emilia made a face at her reflection. ‘How ever will I fix it?’

      Sandra fingered a stiff hank of lacquered curl. ‘Wash it in a hot shower?’

      Emilia vanished to the bathroom, to emerge some time later with her hair wrapped in a towel.

      ‘You look very regal, Emmy,’ Sandra giggled. ‘Nefertiti, the queen of Egypt.’

      Emilia didn’t reply, but took off the towel and began to laboriously comb out the tangle.

      After watching the torture for a couple of minutes, Sandra took her comb, saying, ‘Here, let me try.’ Slowly and carefully, she combed the damp hair, occasionally pulling a strand, with an Ouch! from Emilia.

      ‘Do you want to go to the beach?’ Sandra asked. ‘Mum said they want to take us on a picnic.’

      Emilia was crestfallen. ‘Do we have to? It’s my last chance to go to the beach for a while.’

      ‘I told Mum you’d rather go out, the two of us, okay?’

      After breakfast, they gathered their hats and swimmers, taking a tote bag with towels and a bottle of suntan oil, Jackie Kennedy sunglasses perched on their noses. Angela drove them to Bronte, telling them to sit under the shady trees and not to get sunburnt.

      ‘Don’t get sunburnt!’ repeated Emilia. ‘That’s exactly what I want ... I want to get tanned all over, not all patchy like when I worked in Pa’s vegie garden.’

      To Sandra’s surprise, Emilia wore a bikini. Although she was slimmer, her curves nevertheless overflowed slightly, and she constantly hitched at the top.

      ‘I bet your father doesn’t know you wear that,’ Sandra said. Her own bikini was more like a two piece, and definitely more secure.

      ‘Shit no! Pa would rather I wore black, neck-to-knee.’ Emilia screwed up her nose, reaching for the suntan oil bottle.

      Slathered in coconut oil they raced into the water, dodging among bathers, Emilia immediately disappearing under a wave, to emerge grabbing at her top as it threatened to slide off.

      ‘Golly,’ she said. ‘I better watch out or I’m going to lose something.’

      Sandra noticed that several young men were watching them. The first swim Emilia had at Bondi two years ago, she’d flirted enthusiastically with the boys who swam around them both, but today she wasn’t interested, flinging the group a scornful glance.

      ‘Idiots, they’re only looking at my bikini.’

      ‘And the rest!’ Sandra said. ‘Every time you come up from a wave, you look like you’ll lose your top. They’re all waiting.’

      ‘They’ll be disappointed,’ Emilia sniffed, and returning to their towels, she pulled on a tee-shirt, smirking at the young men as she dived back into the surf.

      Later as they lay in the sun, Emilia said, ‘I drank a lot of bubbles last night. Did you, too?’

      ‘Not like you.’ Sandra spread oil on her arms and legs, smearing more oil onto Emilia’s back. ‘You looked really tipsy when you went to sleep on the couch.’

      ‘How embarrassing,’ Emilia sighed. ‘But it was a fantastic party. ‘Ooh, Mister L’estrange is so divine. No wonder you’ve got a crush—’

      ‘No, I don’t any more,’ Sandra said emphatically. ‘He’s with Auntie now, and they’re madly in love.’

      ‘That’s obvious. Maybe they’ll have beautiful babies.’

      ‘Gosh, I hadn’t thought of that. Isn’t she too old?

      ‘Back where my parents come from, even old ladies in their forties have babies.’

      ‘That’s Italy – maybe they can’t get the Pill over there.’

      It was an interesting notion: Aunt Meredith with a baby? But first Sandra had to get used to the idea of them being together, and Mister L’estrange hadn’t moved in yet.

      ‘Let’s get an icecream?’ Sandra was on her feet already, sunhat jammed on her wet hair. ‘I can feel my skin getting tight, I know I’m burning.’

      The little shop was busy and they waited to be served, the pavement getting increasingly hot under their sandals. Running into the park, they sighed with relief to lick their rapidly melting icecream cones under the trees.

      After dinner they sat in the garden trickling the hose over their feet. Sandra touched Emilia’s shoulder. ‘You’ve gone really red. Does it hurt?’

      ‘A bit. That tomato didn’t do any good. My back feels worse.’

      ‘Mine too. We’ll put on some baby oil before bed.’

      ‘I love Bondi and Bronte,’ Emilia said. ‘Where I live now, I can only go to the local pool, and that’s not so much fun.’

      ‘Do you like living there?’

      ‘Yep. I like Mrs Morgan’s parents – they’re real nice to me. Pa wouldn’t have let me go to Melbourne if I didn’t have somewhere good to stay. I like my course, and it’s not too far to go home for holidays.’

      As Emilia spoke, it wasn’t hard to feel jealous, but Sandra brushed it off. Nick had returned to Wilga Park after his exams... it СКАЧАТЬ