Indelible Ink by Fiona McGregor Page A

fabulous and you know it.’
    In the shade, Susan’s eyes were visible behind her purple UV lenses. She looked at Marie with devious invitation. ‘Gina has been getting Botox treatment. Did I tell you?’
    ‘ No. ’ Marie’s face jutted forward eagerly.
    ‘She swears by it. God help her.’
    ‘Gina always was very careful with her appearance.’
    ‘I don’t know. I can understand sometimes why the Muslims hate us. It all seems so self-indulgent.’
    ‘I read in Good Weekend that nose jobs are all the rage in Iran . ’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Susan considered this scandalous piece of information. ‘Well, there I was thinking they were such downtrodden goody-two-shoes skulking about in their veils,’ she said in a cheated
tone. ‘I wonder if they use Botox as well ... They inject it, you know. Needles! In the face .’
    ‘I’ve heard that Botox is good for migraines,’ Marie said smugly. ‘Apparently it’s one of the most poisonous substances in the world.’
    Susan barked with laughter. ‘You’d better not say that to Gina.’
    ‘I haven’t seen Gina since the divorce, Susan. I’ve been dropped from her dinner party list.’
    ‘Well, you’re not getting out of New Year’s at our place, and the Tottis are coming too.’
    ‘I’d love that.’
    Susan’s witty malicious eyes raked Marie’s body approvingly. ‘You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? Shall we go in?’
    From behind, Susan looked removed and vulnerable. The skin around her elbows had loosened. Sunday after Sunday on her husband’s yacht had sailed deep furrows across her face. Nobody
escaped these marks of time, the cracked heels and spotty hands. Nature couldn’t be cheated. Rain followed sun as night followed day.
    Marie walked into the house affirmed. Common enemies aside, she and Susan had bonded from growth in the same patch, absorbing the same nutrients. As they removed their hats, the air outside
began to brighten with cicadas. The clouds parted and a billion tiny legs in the trees around the house grew frenetic with their worship. Within minutes it felt as though it hadn’t rained at
all; within hours the garden would be completely dry. Was there such a thing as true balance? Nature was also the cane toad plague moving steadily south, the man signing the contract for the pulp
mill in Tasmania, the spreading saltpans.
    ‘The new lounge suite!’ Susan exclaimed. ‘I want to sit in it. Why is it over there? Why isn’t it facing the view?’
    ‘I don’t know. I like the old one.’
    Susan sat stiffly with her hands either side of her thighs, like the man in the shop. ‘You have to get rid of it. Put this in front of the view, Marie.’
    Marie took the herbs into the kitchen and put on the kettle. She could see Susan move to the old couch, then descend into a recumbent posture, her sandals snaking over the armrest. Her swathed
hair hung neatly off the other end. There was something comforting in the sight of feet and hair not biologically related parenthesising the furniture. Marie hadn’t had a dinner party since
her divorce.
    ‘Oh,’ said Susan to the view. ‘It’s so beautiful here. How can you sell?’
    ‘With great difficulty.’
    Susan sat up to face her. She made a pained face.
    ‘I have to, Susan. I can’t afford it.’
    ‘Well, you can get something near here, something a bit smaller.’
    ‘The real-estate agents are going to start traipsing through next week.’
    ‘Hugh will handle the sale, won’t he?’
    ‘I’m seeing a few others anyway. Just to be sure. God, I’m dreading it.’
    A loud groan issued from the couch. ‘God. I’m dying for a cigarette. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I gave up fifteen years ago and all of a sudden I’m
getting these cravings . I couldn’t sleep last night so I watched the late movie. You could hardly see the people for the cigarette smoke.’ Susan sat up and looked in outrage
towards the kitchen. ‘It’s a crime to smoke these days. It’s a