‘Yes, that would be very nice,’ Edie said. ‘How thoughtful of you. I’ll just get my coat and hat.’ Edie brushed past Gracie and almost ran to her room. ‘I’m ignoring you and your giggling,’ she said to Gracie, who’d followed her and stood in the doorway watching. Edie threw her lingerie out of her drawer until she found the lipstick in its metal container. She’d sent to Melbourne for the Helena Rubenstein invention not knowing if she would ever have the opportunity to use it, but thinking if she had it, then a reason to use it might come to her. The automatic lipstick promised to give her lips a cupid’s bow with no need for a template or fussy shaping. She had ordered Red Geranium, which the ad said was vivacious and could take five years off a woman’s face.
‘Can you go and see if he wants to come in?’ she said to Gracie to get rid of her.
Edie put the lipstick on as directed but it didn’t work. There was no bow, just her own lips but redder. She opened the matching compact and smudged a circle on each cheek with the crimson puff, then she licked her handkerchief and tried to remove some of the red and spread the rest of the rouge out over her cheeks so she didn’t look like a clown. She looked at her dress, it wasn’t a good one, and she wished she had worn her black crepe de chine, which she made her look slimmer and younger. She ran the brush through her hair and puffed it out with her hands. She stood back to see what she looked like, decided it was the best she could manage in such a short time and she went out to meet him. He was sitting on the step waiting for her, his hat swinging in his hand. Goodness, had she taken so long that he needed to sit down.
‘Where’s Gracie?’ she said.
‘Oh, I told her I was fine to sit here and wait for you,’ he said. She saw his eyes take her in, he noticed everything about her, and he saw the lipstick, the blush and the hair. Well, he better not think I did it for him. But she knew he did think that.
She said, ‘Shall we go then?’
‘I think so,’ he said, ‘but you were going for your coat and hat and you don’t have them.’
‘Oh,’ she said and ran back inside and pulled her coat and hat from the hallstand.
Once she was in the driver’s seat he instructed her to go up this street and down that street and she realised they were driving to St George’s Lake. When they got there, she pulled up in front of the lake and stared at the gum leaves as they floated on the wind and then settled on the water like boats. She watched them intently as though they were the only thing in the world that needed her attention and not the man sitting so close to her in the compact compartment of the car where she could feel the warmth of his breath.
Realising he was waiting for her to speak first she said, ‘Gosh, it’s quite cosy in here,’ and felt him looking at her.
He turned her face towards him and smiled that slightly crooked smile that happened all over his face. She followed his gaze to her hand resting on her leg, then his hand rested over hers. He left his hand like that for a few moments, letting her get used to the feel of it. His skin was warm and his hand encompassed hers completely. When he leant over and put his lips on hers, his were soft and giving and it stopped too soon.
‘Now, why would you want to do something like that, Virgil?’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘Edie, you know full well why.’
‘But I’m old.’ She really was, she was thirty-five.
‘Oh, Edie,’ he laughed, ‘not as old as me. Come on, let’s walk around the lake.’
He got out of the car and reached behind the seat and pulled out a basket. She got out of the car and he held out his hand for hers. She hoped he didn’t notice the tremors that were happening in every part of her, and felt the firmness of his hand holding hers as they walked halfway around the lake in silence. He stopped, pulled the rug from the basket and laid it out for her. When they were both sitting side by side he poured her some hot tea, which she held in both hands. Even though the tea was hot and satisfying, it didn’t warm her as much as her contented heart. When she had finished the tea, he took the cup from her and kissed her again and she was sure that she could hear Gracie’s pure voice singing ‘I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles’ all the way from Webster Street and that the people sitting around the lake or canoodling in their cars stopped to listen to the sweet voice that hung in the air.
They walked around the rest of the lake back to the car; they talked about the foliage and the crimson rosellas who flew away when they drew close, the red of their feathers like fiery comets flying through the green of the bush. Virgil drove her back home and all she could think was she was thirty-five and she’d just been kissed for the second time in her life and both times by the same man. Every now and then Virgil looked over at her and she heard that quiet private chuckle that he had.
Sunday, 7 May 1922, when Edie tries to be a modern woman.
Edie and Virgil had been taking Sunday afternoon drives for six months and on this
