Indelible Ink by Fiona McGregor Page B

crime to hose your garden.’
    ‘It’s all a bit phallic.’ Marie sniggered.
    ‘It was a Julie Christie movie. Wasn’t she just style incarnate?’
    ‘She’s not dead yet.’
    ‘I always wanted to be Julie Christie, cool as a cucumber. The young one, I mean. Have you been watching Desperate Housewives ?’
    ‘Yes. Out of desperation,’ Marie said.
    ‘I think it’s funny.’
    ‘But do you think they’re really desperate? They’re all so perfect.’
    ‘Oh, that’s just America. They’re all on drugs or plastic surgery. What about the one that was on Melrose Place ? Do you think she’s gay?’
    ‘The one with the long face? Oh yes, she’s so cold .’
    ‘Oh dear,’ Susan was saying as Marie came out of the kitchen. ‘Oh my Lord.’
    Mopoke was making her way across the floor, back leg dragging. She stopped and miaowed loudly. Marie put down the tray and carried the cat out to her spot beneath the Weber on the deck.
‘She’s got arthritis,’ she explained to Susan, who watched the whole procedure warily.
    Susan settled into a recliner. The tide was rising, waves thudding against the sea wall. ‘What are those trees?’
    ‘Brushbox.’
    ‘It’s a shame they’ve grown so much. It’ll cost you on the sale.’ Susan pushed her glasses down her nose and looked over. ‘Have you thought about poisoning
them?’
    ‘I’ve thought about poisoning their owners, the Hendersons.’ Marie bent to remove her shoes and stretched her feet towards the breeze. ‘Their bloody wandering jew is
spilling into the bush. I’m constantly pulling it out.’
    ‘You’re not allowed to call it that anymore, Marie. And your blackboy is a grass tree, you know. Xan-thor-rhea ,’ she intoned. ‘One of the Tottis’ neighbours
in Clontarf is being prosecuted for poisoning a tree.’
    ‘I read about that. The Norfolk Island pine? Lovely trees! What a creep.’
    ‘He doesn’t care. He says the fine is less than what tree removalists charge. There’s a logic there, you have to admit ... I’ve asked myself a couple of times if it
isn’t the Tottis, actually.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘They know every detail of the story, let me tell you. They even know the type of poison.’ Susan picked up an almond biscuit with her thumb and forefinger. ‘You’re
looking very chipper, Marie. Better than the last time I saw you. What have you been doing?’
    ‘I’ve been getting myself tattooed.’ Marie twirled her feet. She had painted her nails too, to extend the celebration. ‘I got the first one just after our trip to the
homewares shop.’
    Susan’s face went blank. Marie felt like she had just whipped out a plate of strawberries for dessert, only to find they’d gone off. She had always associated Susan with her new
self, the big-spending, freewheeling advertising executive’s wife, who had supplanted her old self, the prudish Catholic schoolgirl. She thought that Susan must be joking, that any minute she
would laugh.
    ‘Look,’ she said. ‘You can see the designs properly now the swelling’s gone down.’
    The corners of Susan’s mouth began to turn down, her eyes widening. ‘Just like that? You just walked into one of those places and got tattooed ?’
    ‘That’s right.’ Marie began to talk excitedly. ‘You can’t imagine what it’s like. You feel so elated afterwards.’
    ‘Don’t you feel cheapened? I’d feel cheapened. Marie, you were blind drunk.’
    ‘Well, I felt enriched. And I hadn’t had a drink for hours when I got this one.’
    ‘Really.’
    ‘Look at them, Susan. You haven’t even looked.’
    ‘No, thank you.’ Susan looked in the direction of the Hendersons’. The scrape of trowels drifted over the fence. Marie began to pour the tea. She wanted to crawl away and
hide.
    ‘My lime tree is dying,’ Susan said. ‘Really, I’m at my wits’ end.’
    ‘Piss on it,’ Marie said sullenly.
    Susan swung her head around. ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’
    ‘Nitrate is good