Tuesday, 10 December 1985
Pippa climbed from the back seat, the dust from the driveway immediately settling inside her sandals and sticking to her sweaty feet. The shoes had been a bad choice. Rebecca had insisted these orange chunks of plastic were better than a worn pair of Volleys, and in an attempt at friendship Pippa had gone along. Now she had only herself to blame for the bandaid-covered blisters on her heels. She lifted an arm, shielding her eyes from the glare of the Tasmanian summer sun, and squinted at a house that defied all her expectations.
She laughed incredulously as the challenges of four days on the road and one night on the heaving Abel Tasman ferry were immediately forgotten. ‘Holy shit, Jeremy, you and Eloise didn’t give anything away, did you?’
Jeremy turned and grinned back at her. ‘Better than you thought it would be?’
‘Absolutely.’ She went to stand beside him, knocking him with her shoulder. ‘Man, I was expecting some cute little cottage with a permanent lean and possums in the roof. And that would’ve been okay.’ Instead, this building was sleek and white, a stark contrast to the muted greens and browns of the dry bush. There were simple, long lines and stone features, and the angled roof rose from this side to the other like a ramp. Jeremy’s godmother Eloise might live in the middle of nowhere, but this modern masterpiece was very in keeping with her style: elegant, artistic and worldly.
‘I wanted it to be a surprise,’ Jeremy said.
‘Nicely done, my friend.’
Jeremy swung his keys around his finger, the metallic jangle and the tick of the Laser’s cooling engine loud against the quiet of the day. Pippa glanced across at Rebecca, who was busy smoothing out her knee-length pink shorts and fussing with the banana-coloured bandana that held back her hair. She tugged at the ends of the knot, making cotton rabbit ears stick up from her freshly permed curls. Preening complete, she came around the car to take her usual position, glued against Jeremy’s hip. He lifted an arm and draped it across her shoulders.
‘Must be worth a fortune,’ Rebecca said.
‘Probably,’ Jeremy replied. ‘I think Eloise was romantically involved with an architect when she was younger.’
‘What? He gave her this?’ Pippa asked. Eloise’s life was fascinating.
‘Not quite. I think he gave her his skill … you know, designed it for her, drew up the plans. Anyway, it’s about fifteen years old now, I guess.’
Pippa admired the building and its position high on the hill. The bush ran up to the peak behind them, and from the other side of the house was a wide view down and out to the water. ‘No neighbours,’ she noted.
‘No anything.’ Rebecca sounded unimpressed…
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