Traditions

by Mark Peters

Chapter 12

Uncle Leo's four-wheel-drive wagon probably wasn't ever meant to hold four adults, four overnight bags, a milk crate full of miscellaneous junk from the boot, a large cosmetics bag, and Pippa's apparently non-negotiable Esky, yet there we were, all crammed in and buckled up just after dawn.

In the end we decided to leave a day earlier, to give us a chance to get there and get settled before going to the Imperial to see Patrick's show the following night. Charlie and I had stayed overnight, so that we could get away early, and so, after waving goodbye to my Uncle and Aunt we set off, southbound on the Pacific Highway.

There was a McDonald's on the highway just on the edge of Macquarie Harbour, so after a quick detour through the drive-through we soon had the tyres humming as we put Mac Harbour behind us.

Kevin was driving, relaxed to the point of slouching, one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually over the open window frame. Pippa claimed the front passenger seat like it was her birthright, sunglasses already perched in her hair, playlist queued before we'd even cleared the end of their street.

Charlie and I drew the short straw in the back. Not that I really minded. He leaned against me, head resting on my shoulder and my arm around him, as the road unwound ahead of us. The early morning air was cool, eucalyptus-sharp, the kind that made you feel awake whether you wanted to be or not.

'This,' Pippa announced, as Kevin accelerated on a long straight stretch, 'is officially a road trip. Which means no sulking, no awkward silences, and absolutely no skipping the fun stops.'

Kevin snorted. 'Since when were you put in charge?'

'Since always, dear brother,' she replied sweetly. 'You just never noticed.'

The highway did what it always did – curving through bushland and forests, then straightened out along coastal flats and farmland, dipped through sleepy towns that relied on tourists and serving coffee, before spitting us back out again. Windows down, music up. Old songs, new songs, songs Pippa claimed were classics that none of us recognised, and songs I hated that made me want to jump out the window… like 500 Miles by some Scottish group whose name I couldn't remember.

We stopped for coffee at a servo a couple of hours south, the four of us sitting at a picnic table in the shade of a leafy tree, paper cups in hand. Pippa took photos. Kevin pretended not to pose. Charlie stood a little apart at first, taking it all in… the movement, the noise, the sense of going somewhere.

I watched him while he wasn't looking. I guess this was all new to him, as road trips weren't exactly something he'd experienced growing up. I couldn't help but wonder what he would think of Sydney once we got there. Would it feel like a big thing to him?

When he caught me staring, he smiled.

'What?' he asked.

'Oh, nothing,' I said. 'Just… you're doing okay.'

He nodded. 'Yeah, I think I am. At least, better than I thought I would.'

By the time we reached the outskirts of Sydney, the traffic thickened and the air changed. Less salt. More exhaust. The road felt like it was open until we reached Hornsby, but then things started closing in… buildings stacked closer together, taller, louder… traffic heavier.

Kevin handled it like he'd grown up here and had never left. I'd spent a few years living here and still wasn't exactly used to it.

I managed to guide him across the Harbour Bridge and through the city, and then out towards the Newtown district, which was the general area of where the flat I lived in was, as well as the Imperial Hotel, of course, which we would be visiting while here.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when we pulled into the designated carport belonging to the flat, and after Kevin shut the engine off we all climbed out of the vehicle and stretched. I pointed to the stairs on the outside of the building, which creaked with every step, and would take us up to the second floor. I was always nervous when climbing them, as I suspected that sooner or later one or more of the wooden steps would give way.

'C'mon up, we can grab the bags and stuff in a minute. I'll go and unlock the place and open a couple of windows. It'll probably smell of old carpet and Chinese takeaway, knowing my flatmate.'

They all followed me up the stairs and along the patio to the front door of flat number seven, and after I opened the front door, they joined me inside.

I had called Lee, my flat mate, earlier to let him know what was happening and was able to confirm he was still away for the Christmas break, so there shouldn't be any issues with us all being able to squeeze in for a few nights.

'Welcome to where I used to live,' I said to them, as I quickly went around and opened a couple of windows. I hadn't been disappointed when I stepped inside, it was exactly as I expected, and remembered – small, narrow, perpetually untidy. At least the kitchen didn't have a stack of dirty dishes this time, like it usually did. Two small bedrooms. A combined living room and kitchen, and small bathroom at the end of the hallway. A small balcony that overlooked the street. Nothing fancy, but it had been home for a while.

The expression on Pippa's face as she looked around was priceless, as she took in the mismatched furniture, the stacked books, the faint imprint of a life that had been paused rather than ended.

'All pretty much a standard rental for young folks or students. Nothing very special, I'm afraid,' I said to her.

Pippa flopped onto the couch. 'I've stayed in worse,' she said.

Charlie hovered in the doorway, his eyes flicking over the space.

'So, this is where you were hiding out?' he said to me quietly.

'Yeah,' I said. 'For a while.'

He stepped inside fully, fingers brushing the edge of the kitchen bench, grounding himself.

'I like it,' he said, which surprised me more than I thought it might.

'You do?' I responded.

'Yeah… I can see you living here. It kind of suits you.'

'I'm not really sure what to say to that,' I said. 'Maybe you can explain it to me later?'

Charlie just grinned at me, then walked over to inspect the contents of a bookshelf. I was going to follow him, but then Pippa interrupted, asking, 'So, where are we all sleeping?'

'Well, you can take my room… through there,' I said. 'Kevin can take the other bedroom, and Charlie and I will take the fold out couch. It's only for a few nights, so we'll manage.'

'Sounds like it's all sorted then,' Kevin replied. 'Okay, we better get our bags and stuff, and also do something about the trailer. Probably not a good idea to leave it sticking out into the car park like that.'

'Good idea. I think if we can unhook it, we can just push it over to one side, until we need to pack it before we come home.'

'Works for me.'

Our first night in the Big Smoke was a relatively quiet one. We decided that we would hit the tourist trail tomorrow, and would take it easy tonight. There was a Chinese restaurant at a small shopping centre close by that was always a favourite of mine, and so we walked the two blocks there and enjoyed a quiet meal. After that, the next two days became just a blur of movement and colour as my three companions were eager to take in the whole tourist experience.

The Opera House, with its gleaming white against a sky too blue to be real. Circular Quay, with churning waters and seagulls everywhere. Ferries cutting clean lines across the harbour. Walking through Hyde Park and visiting the Anzac Memorial, its history weighing heavily upon us all. A stroll along Oxford Street in the daytime.

Pippa insisted on photos at every stop, even dragging strangers into service with fearless charm. Kevin played tour guide most of the time, with just enough wrong facts to keep things interesting. I only corrected him when I really felt I needed to, as for the most part it was entertaining, if nothing else.

Charlie walked beside me, quieter than the others, eyes wide, absorbing everything; the crowds, the street performers, the sense that life here ran much faster than it did in Thompsonville.

In Newtown, which was closest and had been our first stop the morning after we had arrived, we wandered aimlessly, ducking into bookshops and vintage stores, and ended up having coffees at a little sidewalk café. Charlie's hand found mine more than once without thinking.

In Darling Harbour, we ate overpriced food and laughed about it anyway. At Bondi, Pippa kicked her shoes off and ran straight into the water, shrieking when the cold hit. Kevin followed, swearing loudly. Charlie and I stayed back, sitting on the sand, shoulders touching.

'You know, I used to think places like this weren't for people like me,' he said softly.

I looked at him. 'What are you talking about? The beaches at home are better anyway. And what do you mean people like me?'

He shrugged. 'People who messed up. People who didn't… plan.'

I threaded my fingers through his. 'That's BS, and you know it. Places like this city… they're exactly for people like you. They are for anyone who wants to spread their wings, expand their horizons, and better themselves… and that's exactly what you are doing now.'

He smiled then. A real one. And so I leaned over and kissed him. Right there on the beach, where anyone could see us if they'd bothered to look. And neither of us cared.

At night, Newtown felt different to how it was when we first wandered its streets. The almost dour-looking streets, many of which gave the impression that the place was stuck in the nineteen-seventies, a relic of inner-city suburbia, now seemed to be humming. The streets pulsed with colour and movement, with music spilling from doorways, laughter bouncing off brick walls, and neon signs flashing like they were alive. I had been here before, but for the others, this was an entirely new experience.

Pippa walked a few steps ahead of us, done up to the nines for her first big night on the town in the city, and practically vibrating with excitement, while Kevin pretended not to look impressed; though he failed miserably at that.

Charlie stayed close to me. Not clinging, just… present. His hand brushed mine as we walked, fingers tangling briefly before separating again. He was watching everything, eyes bright, taking it in like someone who had finally stepped into a room he hadn't known that he was allowed to enter.

And then we were there. The Imperial Hotel. Old. Solid. Yet pulsing with life.

Rainbow lights framed the entrance, the sound of bass and voices rolled out onto the street. A queue had already formed; a glorious mix of people. There were couples, groups, and solo wanderers, all of whom were dressed up, like the night mattered.

As country kids, Kevin, Charlie and I may not have been able to match the wardrobes of some of these players, but at least we didn't look too much out of place.

Pippa turned, grinning. 'Okay, guys. Deep breaths. This is going to be amazing.'

Kevin raised an eyebrow. 'You say that like you've been here before.'

She shrugged. 'I do my research, big brother.'

Somehow, we made it through the front doors, waved on by the doorman with barely a second glance. Pippa's fake ID hardly raised an eyebrow as she flashed it, along with a dazzling smile. Obviously, she must have looked older than her real age, which only made me wonder exactly what sort of mischief she got into back home.

Inside, the air was thick with heat and anticipation. The walls were painted black, yet they seemed to pulse with light. The bar was three deep with patrons, staff moving like dancers themselves. Somewhere behind a curtain, music thudded, with the promise of something fabulous about to happen.

Charlie leaned in close to me so I could hear him. 'I feel like I should apologise in advance if I embarrass myself.'

I smiled. 'Trust me, babe. You won't even crack the top ten tonight. How about you guys find us a table, and I'll go organise some drinks?'

Leaving them to find a table I went and joined the line-up at the bar, but it wasn't long before I had a tray of drinks in hand and was battling my way back through the throng. When I reached the edge of where the tables and paused for a moment, then moments later I spotted Pippa waving to me.

They had been lucky enough to find us a high table with stools, reasonably close to the stage and just off to the side. After a bit of a struggle through the crowd, I was soon seated, and we all had our drinks in hand, then moments later the lights dimmed. The standing crowd in the centre of the room surged closer, then the curtain swept back.

Standing there under a spotlight in the middle of the stage, wearing a sequined, red dress, hair impossibly high, and makeup sharp enough to cut glass stood the star performer for the night. The room erupted.

'Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone who knows better,' the MC purred, 'please welcome the delectable… the incomparable… Trinity de la Creme!'

Charlie gasped. Pippa actually squealed. Kevin just stared.

Trinity owned the stage from the first beat – lip-syncing like she'd written the nineteen-seventies disco song herself, every gesture exaggerated just enough to be perfect. She was glamorous and ridiculous and commanding all at once, the kind of presence that sucked the entire room into her orbit.

Charlie leaned closer to me, voice barely audible. 'She's… incredible.'

'Yeah. She is,' I answered.

And I meant more than just for the performance.

For a whole hour we were entertained by this delightful creature, singing, dancing, telling lewd jokes and swearing like a drunken sailor… and we loved every moment. I had seen her perform previously, of course, but seeing Pippa and Kevin, and Charlie as well, all letting their defences down and just allowing themselves to be swept up in the moment, that was worth the price of admission alone.

By the end of the show, the crowd was really buzzing, flushed with laughter and applause and… something else. Gratitude, perhaps? Pippa was already dragging us towards a door to one side of the stage, intent on ensuring that we met her.

'Backstage,' she announced confidently, as if she did this sort of thing all the time.

Kevin snorted. 'You can't just…'

But somehow, she did. We did.

We found ourselves in a narrow corridor, the music muffled now. Walls were plastered with posters and photos of past performers. My heart thudded in my chest. Not from nerves, exactly, but anticipation.

We found a red door with a silver star attached to it, below which was a card with Trinity written on it with a Sharpie. The door opened and someone stepped out into the corridor, and before it could close, Pippa placed a hand on it and held it open.

Seated in front of a table and mirror, Trinity sat staring at her own reflection, a wipe in hand as she was about to clean makeup from her face. She had removed the fantastic wig she had been wearing, and her hair was covered with some kind of rubber cap, something like a swimmer would use, and she was now wearing a pink satin robe.

I noticed her eyes flick towards us in the mirror, before she spun around on the stool and faced us, makeup still flawless, a smile tired but warm.

'Yes? Can I help you?' she asked.

Pippa stepped forward, hand outstretched. 'Hi. We're sorry to intrude like this… and it might sound weird, but… I think you're family.'

Trinity blinked. Just once. Then she laughed; a rich, delighted sound.

'Oh,' she said. 'That does sound weird. And what makes you think that?'

She then looked at each of us, and when her eyes settled on me, she frowned slightly.

'I've met you before, haven't I?'

'Y-yes,' I answered. 'You helped us celebrate the birthday of one of my workmates a few months ago.'

'Well, there you go. And which one of you am I supposed to be related to exactly?'

'All of us, except Charlie here,' I answered, as I put an arm around his shoulders. 'He's my boyfriend.'

'Indeed! This gets curiouser and curiouser. Well, you better come in and close the door then, and tell me what this is all about.'

As the others stepped through the doorway I closed it behind us, then made the introductions. Explanations then followed… halting at first, then faster, overlapping. Mothers. Aunts. Old grudges. Distance.

Recognition flickered across Trinity's face.

'Patrick,' she said quietly, tapping her chest. 'That's my name. Well. One of them.'

Kevin shifted beside me. 'I think our mums might have some explaining to do.'

Trinity smiled, something softer behind her eyes now. 'They always do. It wasn't their fault though… it was the next generation. They saw things… differently back then. Why don't you kids give me a few minutes to change, and I'll meet you in the bar shortly. I'll have a scotch and dry, if you're buying.'

'Sure thing,' I replied.

We left her to change and then found ourselves a table back out in the bar area. By the time I made it back to the table with our drinks… Coca-Cola for me and Charlie, a West Coast Cooler for Pippa and a beer for Kevin, along with Patrick's scotch and dry, he was just arriving.

I handed him his glass and he found a seat. 'Well, here's cheers, to long-lost relatives,' he said, before we all clinked glasses.

Pippa related the story to him as to how her parents had let slip his existence, and about how, over Christmas dinner she had told me. From there I told Patrick about how I had met him previously, and how everything had fallen into place. Laughter seemed to ease any discomfort, then before we knew it, the weight of all the years and the heartache caused by bigoted relatives seemed to fall away. Patrick listened more than he spoke, eyes moving between us… especially to Charlie.

'You're new to all this,' he said gently.

Charlie flushed. 'Is it that obvious?'

He reached across the table, touching Charlie's hand briefly. 'Only because I recognise it. That look when the world finally stops telling you no.'

Charlie swallowed. 'It still does. Sometimes.'

'Yes,' Patrick said softly. 'But not tonight, darling.'

Pippa, emboldened by alcohol and triumph, leaned forward. 'You should come visit. Macquarie Harbour. Our family – your cousins – they're all… different now.'

Patrick laughed, sceptical but hopeful. 'Different how?'

'Wiser,' Kevin said. 'Or at least louder. And more accepting. When Kieran and Charlie came out at Christmas time, it was like, I dunno… "that's nice dear, pass the turkey won't you?".'

At that, Patrick snorted, but then the silence seemed to stretch.

After a while, Patrick said, 'Maybe. I'll have a think about it. I suppose we had best exchange numbers.'

Later, walking back through Newtown's glowing streets, Charlie slipped his hand into mine without hesitation.

'I didn't know places like that existed,' he said. 'Where people could just be… all that.'

'They exist,' I replied. 'Sometimes you just have to search for them.'

He squeezed my hand. 'I'm glad I found you first.'

Ahead of us, Pippa was already planning the reunion with Patrick's cousins – our parents – while Kevin walked a little quieter now, thoughtful.

And somewhere behind us, under the fading lights of the Imperial, Trinity de la Creme was carefully packing away her costume – until her next performance – while her thoughts were on a different stage, wondering if she was ready to step back into that spotlight.

The beginnings of the next chapter were already waiting to be written.