Indelible Ink Read Free

washed over her.
    ‘God,’ Clark said. ‘That woman. Mum’s so sub missive with her or something. You know, Susan buys a yellow straw hat, Mum buys a yellow straw hat.’
    ‘Mum didn’t get a mobile though. And Susan lives on hers.’
    ‘Yes, she did. She just never uses it.’
    ‘ Did she? She never told me. And I’ve been hassling her to and everything. Did she give you her number?’
    ‘Yep.’ Clark stepped ahead of her as the path narrowed. Blanche fell silent.
    Clark said in a low voice, ‘Mum just wants to please everyone. Including us. You know that.’
    The next Saturday after lunch at Mario’s, Susan suggested they go to the new homewares shop on Macleay Street. They went in Susan’s car as Marie had had most of the
two bottles they’d ordered at lunch. Marie rode with her hand in her bag, palming her wallet. She hummed with excitement. Who knew what she might find out there? All those things waiting for
her to give them a home and bring them to life. She remembered her pile of unpaid bills, but she owned a house in Sirius Cove and it was her birthday and spending while in debt had an extra
frisson. The casual signature below a sum that could have fed her for months. To be that free and reckless.
    She followed Susan into the shop. An assistant at the back noticed them immediately. Marie always liked walking into places with Susan, a tall good-looking blonde with long tanned legs and
ankles so tautly defined as to have been carved from wood. Marie was the cute curvaceous side of the partnership, the entry point, and Susan the lure. They browsed with their heads together.
    ‘Why don’t you get a lounge suite?’ said Susan.
    ‘I thought I’d just get a new chair and a lamp or something.’
    ‘You should start with a lounge suite, then work your way down. If you start with the small things, it just ends up higgledy piggledy and nothing matches.’
    Marie barked her shin on a chair and stumbled against Susan, who tipped forward then righted herself on the back of a couch. They giggled tipsily. ‘Not this ugly thing,’ Marie hissed
at the couch.
    ‘Out of my way!’ Susan gave the next couch a little whack.
    They forged on.
    ‘What about these?’ Marie stopped before a pair of Chinese vases.
    ‘Oh no, you don’t want those.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Ross has a pair just like them.’
    They continued towards the centre of the shop. Something sour released in Marie at the mention of Ross’s name.
    ‘Furniture traps memories like odours, Marie. It’s bad feng shui for you to hang on to that couch of yours. Isn’t this a lovely shop? You have to get something here.
Gina’s managing Mosmania now, you know, and I can tell you there’s absolutely nothing in there. No-thing. ’
    The svelte, bearded assistant approached. ‘Can I help you?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Susan. ‘We’re interested in lounge suites. For my friend here. Let’s have a look at those.’ She set sail across the floor towards some lumps the
colour of ice. ‘I like that one, Marie. It’s timeless. Versatile.’
    ‘Excellent choice.’ The assistant nodded. ‘It also comes in navy, slate, jade and coral. The covers are washable.’
    Susan sat on one of the couches and looked over at Marie, eyes bright. ‘It’s comfortable, you know. And I’ll get you a lamp, to go with this, for your
birthday.’
    Marie could feel acid rising up the back of her throat. She sat obediently next to Susan. Interesting to see the revisitation of styles in the light-filled, glass-fronted shop. Off to one side
stepped the functional elegance of Scandinavian couches, with their narrow wooden arms and slim cushions. Ross had had some couches like that taken to the tip less than a decade after buying them.
And now they sold for thousands of dollars.
    Marie bounced up and down, testing it out. The couch was comfortable. She could have lain down and fallen asleep.
    ‘How do you like it?’ said the assistant.
    ‘It’s very comfortable but