Trouble in Nirvana (27 page)

They hadn’t. Five of them were asleep on the living room floor. Primrose stood in the doorway studying the sprawl of comatose bodies. An obstacle course to the kitchen and a cup of tea. A total blockade on flute practice unless she went to one of the sheds. Presumably others were occupying the spare rooms. In sudden panic she turned. They wouldn’t. Danny wouldn’t let them. She’d murder him! Primrose flung open the door to baby Dawn’s newly renovated nursery, sagged in relief against the doorframe. Empty. Untouched. Just as Nirupam had left it. Except a pile of baby wrapped gifts sat on the change table.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Primrose turned. The blonde Kiwi girl smiled. Blue eyes and crooked teeth in a tanned face. “It’s so exciting. I love babies, don’t you?”

“Yes. Where’s Danny?”

“He’s gone to pick up Nirupam and Dawn.”

“Oh! I was...” Primrose stopped. Of course Danny and Nirupam should bring their baby home alone. A sister wasn’t needed for that. The girl waited expectantly, a little smile hovering. “Never mind. How long are you staying?”

“Tony and I are leaving this afternoon. We want to see the baby first. He’s gone down to the river to meditate.”

“Right. Fine. What about the others?” Primrose gestured at the sleeping carpet in the living room. One large very hairy body in the centre resembled some sort of snoring comatose animal. The room smelled like a lion cage at the zoo.

The blonde shrugged, similar fashion to Danny. “I’m Zoë.”

“Primrose.”

The eyes lit up. “Danny’s sister.”

Primrose nodded. And what else went with that remark? It implied a “the one with the bad vibe who cleared the house” continuation. But Zoë only said, “Want some tea?”

She led the way to the kitchen, deftly avoiding stepping on hands or legs or hair. Once there Zoë filled the kettle and took the teapot outside to empty it before Primrose could organise her thoughts to reach her limbs. Communal living. She still didn’t have it right. Everyone else knew the protocol. Treat every home as your own. Everyone was therefore automatically welcome wherever they went. Or so it appeared. They just moved right on in.

Primrose opened the fridge in the vain hope some food had been left untouched by last night’s marauders. To her surprise it was fuller than it had ever been. In amongst covered plates and bowls a tub of fresh fruit salad looked tempting, and that could only be home made yoghurt in another container. A large pot of honey had appeared from somewhere, too. Primrose helped herself. Zoë made the tea and sat at the table while Primrose ate.

“Danny said you’re a flute player,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Tony and I are musicians. We have a band. I sing and play bass and Tony plays guitar and sings. He writes stuff too. It’s kind of world music, I suppose. All sorts of influences. African, jazz, blues. We’re The Buttercups. Do you play with anyone?”

Primrose shook her head. “I’m a freelance classical player. I haven’t done much improvised playing but I enjoyed what I did. Where do you live?”

“Bermagui. We travel a lot to festivals. And we play the club dates up and down the coast. Tony has some students.”

“Sounds fun.” It did sound fun. Freelance but in control of your own music. Making your own music, no external imposition in the form of notes on a page or a conductor. Teaching people who wanted to learn.

“We love it. I’ll give you a CD.”

“Thanks. Do you live off it?”

“Pretty much. We’re not going to be millionaires but who wants to be a millionaire?” The blue eyes sparkled.

“True. I’d settle for a steady income.”

“We manage that.” Zoë laughed and stood up. “I’ll get the CD.”

“I’ll buy it from you.”

“If you insist. You should come and sit in with us sometime.”

Primrose smiled. “I’d love to but I’m going back to Sydney soon.”

Zoë tilted her head. “I thought you lived here, now.”

“Not really.”

The blue eyes studied her carefully. Primrose ate a chunk of juicy mango.

“You’ll stay,” said Zoë suddenly, with a bright smile.

“Will I?”

“Of course.” She almost danced out the door.

Primrose drained her tea. Was Zoë psychic like Fern? She seemed like such a nice girl. Or perhaps she assumed Primrose was like the rest of them. They all ended up here. Like a swarm of locusts.

Primrose kept well clear of the house by collecting the eggs, checking the goats and Sammy had water, watering and unnecessarily poking about with a hoe in the veggie garden. Gradually bodies emerged. She took surreptitious peeks at them as they wandered around or lazed on the verandah. Those seedy looking ones probably had hangovers, certainly their ears would be ringing. One had a guitar but it wasn’t Tony. He and Zoë were examining a piece of their motorbike in the shade of a large gum tree. Interesting invitation to play with their band. If she stayed. Maybe there were opportunities here. Maybe she could find a part-time job in Moruya or some other little nearby coastal town, to get herself started.

A couple of the interlopers were attacked by Sammy, large rude girl included. He was having the time of his life. Victims had been in short supply since Primrose had his measure.

When Danny’s van appeared over the rise she straightened and waved. With his new family aboard he drove uncharacteristically slowly, avoiding the largest potholes with care. All the visitors materialised in the yard as though by magic. By the time Primrose reached the van they were three deep. Short of pushing and shoving her way through the milling fans she had no chance of greeting her family. She stood back while everyone oohed and aahed and hugged Nirupam and Danny.

The throng surged toward the house in a flurry of excited chatter. Someone’s blue cattle dog appeared from nowhere and bounced around barking. Nirupam said, “Where’s Rosie?”

“Here.” Primrose stepped forward and kissed the cheek smelling sweetly of baby powder and hospital soap. “Everything’s ready for you.”

Danny clutched the baby capsule as though it held the Holy Grail. It did. Dawn was barely visible, just a few wisps of dark hair poked out of the tightly wrapped pink and white bundle. Like a big cocoon.

“It’s so good to be home.” Nirupam smiled around at everyone. “And to see you all. It’s a wonderful homecoming.”

Absolutely sincere. No doubt about it. Where was the defiant “I want my home to myself” of a couple of days ago? Primrose sighed. Nirupam and Danny moved on up the steps with their precious little daughter and the host of followers.

She took the hoe to the shed. Everyone was inside now, the yard deserted except for the dog. He lay on the verandah ignoring her. By the time Primrose had washed the dirt from her hands and face, Nirupam had settled Dawn in her new room and sat with all the visitors round the kitchen table. A feast had materialised while Primrose had been outside attending to the chores and avoiding people.

The table groaned under an array of salads, cheese, bread and fruit with small dishes of condiments and sauces dotted amongst the plates. Zoë and the bath woman were pouring juice into glasses. Danny was handing out beers. Everyone was talking. Nirupam was beaming.

“Sit next to me Rosie,” she called, budging up closer to the large hairy man who was now wide awake and telling stories about someone called Bob.

Primrose dutifully squeezed in beside her on the end of the bench.

The servers sat down. Primrose did a quick count. Thirteen.

Danny stood up with his stubby raised. “I propose a toast to my beautiful wife and daughter. I love them both.” Nirupam reached to clasp his free hand. He bent and kissed her.

“To Nirupam and Dawn,” roared everyone.

“I propose a toast to Rosie,” said Nirupam when the noise level subsided. “She was wonderful. I’m so glad she was here.”

Primrose stared at her plate while the toast was enthusiastically endorsed. Her face was bright red, she knew it. “Thanks,” she murmured. “But Tom did most of it.”

“To Tom,” bellowed the man next to her, lifting his glass again and slopping beer on to the table. Everyone roared again.

****

After lunch, which sprawled on for several hours, Zoë and Tony climbed aboard their motorbike and left in a cloud of blue exhaust smoke and dust. One of the vans followed within a few minutes, loaded up with four passengers including hairy man, rude bath woman, large girl and the dog. Four people remained, showing no signs of imminent departure. The two men settled themselves on the verandah with Danny, drinking beer and chatting. The two women started washing clothes in the laundry.

Primrose peeped into Nirupam’s room where she lay on the bed with the baby snuggled to her breast.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Nirupam patted the bed and Primrose sat down. Dawn was fast asleep, one tiny hand curled against her cheek.

“She’s so gorgeous.” She stretched a finger to stroke the soft, dark, downy hair.

Nirupam gazed at her daughter. “I didn’t know how much I’d love her. I had no idea how strong the feeling is.” She looked up with shining eyes.

Primrose blinked away a tear. “I’m so envious. Seeing Dawn has made me want a baby even more.”

“You will, Rosie.”

Primrose nodded with a sceptical grimace. “Sure. One day.”

“You will,” insisted Nirupam. “Tom...”

“Tom doesn’t love me and even if he did he can’t have children, Nirupam. Remember?” cut in Primrose. Why did they keep on about him?

“Yes, but if you love each other you can work it out somehow. There are always ways.”

“You don’t understand. It’s too complicated.”

If she loved him? Did she? Did he love her? Such a love would have to be very, very deep and very, very strong, like Danny’s and Nirupam’s. Was she even capable of loving that way? Forgoing children, for the love of a man? If that man were Tom...

Nirupam firmed her mouth, but didn’t say anything.

Primrose toyed with the edge of Dawn’s bunny rug. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Nirupam looked up, startled.

“I don’t think I need to be here any longer. You have all your friends. And Danny.”

“Stay. There’s plenty of room.”

“I know. It’s not that.”

“They won’t be here forever, Rosie.” Nirupam smiled. “Shah and Christine are staying a bit but the others are leaving tomorrow, too.”

“See?” Primrose swallowed tightly. “You don’t need me. I was only staying to help with Dawn but if they’re here,” she ended harshly, “Didn’t Danny tell you? I need to earn some money.”

“I’m sorry, Rosie.” Nirupam ran gentle, caressing fingers over the baby’s sleeping body.

Primrose watched for a moment, wondering. Should she mention it? It was important. Especially now with Dawn involved. “Nirupam what about what you said? About wanting to have the house for just you and Danny and the baby.”

Nirupam smiled one of her familiar, calm smiles. “I think it was being pregnant made me talk like that. Mad hormones. The commune has always been Danny’s dream. We talked about it on the way home and we’re making some changes. He’s not going to let people stay here who don’t contribute. Financially, I mean, as well as physically. You were right about a lot of things, Rosie. And he’s going to make the decisions on crops. Take Tom’s advice. Have a plan which people have to follow.”

Dawn squawked and Nirupam lifted her to her shoulder. She began patting her back and murmuring soothing noises. Primrose slid off the bed. There was nothing to say. They had their lives. She had the fragments of hers.

“I’ll head off in the morning.”

“Will you see Tom before you go?”

“I suppose I should.” See Tom and say what? Goodbye was all that was left. But goodbye, at very least, had to be said.

Primrose closed the door softly. So easily she slipped out of their lives. They were used to people coming and going, but she’d thought, hoped, she may have been slightly more important to them than one of those other drop-ins.

****

Tom wasn’t home. Delilah wandered out to greet the car wagging her tail slowly, and followed Primrose down to the sheds which was unnecessary because the white ute wasn’t there in its usual spot. And he’d locked the house which implied he was out for the day. She looked in at the chooks scratching about in the litter and muttering amongst themselves. Her attacker ignored her until she plucked some handfuls of grass and pushed them through the wire netting. Then the little flock went into a frenzy of pecking and running with pieces of the fresh greenery dropping from their beaks.

Primrose walked back to the car to stand undecided in the gathering dusk. He could be home any minute or late tonight. He may not be back until morning. She had no idea who he would visit except Mike on the peach farm. She never did go to visit Mike, hadn’t tried very hard to fit in to the local community. She’d tried to change it to fit her. The part she was involved in, anyway. And failed.

She looked down at Delilah sitting patiently at her feet, ruffled her ears. “Goodbye.”

The tail thumped on the ground a couple of times and a red tongue lolled as the dog grinned and panted. Primrose went home.

Everyone was in the kitchen preparing dinner when she arrived. It didn’t feel like home any more. Nowhere did.

****

Tom drove over to the commune the next morning. An unfamiliar car was in the shed where Primrose’s Golf should be. Out. Impossible to pretend he wasn’t disappointed. She was addictive. He couldn’t have her, but he still needed his fix every few days. Just a chat, a look, a smile from her. Maybe she’d nipped in to the store and would be back soon if he hung around. He’d really come over to visit the new mum and baby. Really.

Danny waved from the garden patch. Tom sauntered over to the rows of vegetables and clumps of herbs.

“G’day, Danny. How’s the bub?”

“She’s wonderful. How’re you?”

“Not bad.” He glanced around. “Garden’s doing all right.”

“Yeah. Rosie looked after it after Kurt left. Replanted stuff.”

“Where is she?”

“Gone.”

Tom’s eyes jerked from the capsicums to Danny. “To Sydney? When did she go?”

“This morning.”

“She coming back?”

“Don’t think so. Not for a while.”