The weather!
I recall Coral fretting over her phone about the weather. The forecast vexed her. We agreed earlier in the week to head into the city by tram on the upcoming Friday. An arranged outing, Coral planned, in the last week of the winter school holidays in '72.
The night before, in a phone call, she spewed at me, "The weather, what can I wear?"
"Oh, Coral," I tried, "you will be fantastic whatever the weather."
My fingers drummed the phone in the absence of a quick reply. I fancied she looked in her walk-in robe or pictured a matching outfit.
"I'm back," she prattled, " Jeans. It could get cold."
"Head-to-head versus Ruby," I verified.
I shot cheap, " your jeans would be newer."
Very unfair as the brunette liked faded denim. Her dad would have brought her the top fashion. Though Coral said, Rubes never pressed him.
"You're right; I'm not competing," Coral stated.
She added, "Ruby's a knock-out in stone-washed ones," a comment to make me tone it down.
I persisted, "You are butt competing."
Coral twittered and instructed, "Stop it! I know what I'm wearing. I can see it."
"What," I pleaded; I wanted to know.
"Ah, tomorrow, and it will cover every possible weather outcome!"
We said our phone goodbyes.
The Friday started cold and windy in Melbourne: a typical four seasons in one day. We agreed to hit the city centre and journeyed there by tram. Josh viewed the trip as a chance to visit the city's top sporting goods stores. It would be a perk of the day if he managed to hold Coral's hand. If Coral's mood stirred to kiss him, he believed he deserved everything.
The golden girl loved to shop. I couldn't picture Josh accompanying her in the boutique arcades. Maybe Coral premeditated to lure Ruby into buying a skirt! The brunette tagged along because she sought fun with Coral. The girls vied, constantly in a genial way.
Before the tram's arrival, the brunette said, "Well, at least I escape momma's nagging for a few hours!"
I trailed in my bestie's wake.
Coral planned a full day in the city centre. This meant catching an early, busy commuter tram. Our troupe squeezed and jammed aboard, standing room only.
Ruby attired sensibly; she sported a snappy navy-blue blazer over her usual denim. Josh and I dressed in practical jeans and thick woollen jumpers. Coral chose a warm rose-red pleated mini skirt; it flapped in the early morning wind at the tram stop. She wore stockings and high boots to combat the cold. Her cornflower yellow cardigan gave her a burst of colour over a white blouse. My excitable pal loved summer, even in winter. She completed her outfit, swinging her small satchel.
The crowded tram suited Josh. He avoided waiting for Coral to invite him into her space or wondering if he should wriggle and insinuate his way there. Aboard the tram, Josh's fingers sneaked beneath her hair at her nape.
A content Coral neither resisted nor brushed him off. Like the rest of us, one of his hands held a leather strap as the tram swayed. More passengers boarded, and fewer disembarked. The borders of personal space disappeared.
Our troupe wedged like a concertina, and stray strands of Coral's golden locks tickled my cheek. Josh, closer, abreast of Coral, his lips brushed her neck, and his teeth nibbled her earlobe. Coral's spare hand found Josh's spare, and their fingers intertwined.
We heard the conductor's repeated call to move back. Everybody in the tram conceded space. It lodged Ruby and me cheek by jowl; it sandwiched us. Mere inches to her elfin face, and as the tram rocked, I butted her thigh. Flanking the brunette, the faintest hint of her body fragrance wafted. Subtle vanilla meandered my thoughts to Cassata. The brunette glanced up and delivered a wry smile. She suffered me for the sake of Coral's company, though her barbs in my direction were usually a strike at my shyness.
Suddenly, I was unconsciously self-conscious and realised, no ifs or buts – I drifted into her space! I shuffled in a cramped, congested tram, creating leg and elbow room. I manoeuvred my free hand to the rail and swapped my holding arm.
The tram jolted to a squealing stop. My momentum carried me forward into an unknown body. The swaying jerked my body back, and I veered into Ruby's soft chest. An awkward moment as I cocked my head. I expected instant verbal decapitation by the brunette. I knew my Apocrypha stories; I felt like Holofernes pitted against a petite modern-day Judith. I readied, expecting Ruby to slay me verbally.
Instead, I confronted the strangest of smiles, acknowledging accidents happen. I'm sure she glimpsed trepidation in my eyes.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
My tension lessened as the tram re-commended its journey. I avoided a caustic brunette tongue-lashing. Her head swayed back and forth before she gazed at me. Her eyes mesmerised me, blue spells, a baffling mixture of invitation and intimidation. Her lips were delicately thin, coral pink, succulent, and overawing.
Prior experience knew how quickly her lips flayed words. In awe and nervousness, I faltered, trying to fathom who Ruby was inside herself.
Her eyelashes flickered, and her lips rippled. Furthermore, her elfin cheeks spread, radiating a delicate softness. Still, I expected a broadside—Ruby, firing in my clumsy direction.
Her voice instead, incredibly mellow, "Lighten up."
My stomach heaved in relief as the tram stopped and commuters disgorged. I welcomed the space; I sidled, shuffled, and created a gap. The brunette stayed unperturbed; she held her position confidently in the spread of bodies through the tram.
We jumped off the tram near Flinders Street Station. Coral decided to go girl shopping immediately. Josh whined; he craved the sports stores, grabbing my arm. Ruby suggested hot chocolate and a discussion.
Over drinks, we agreed to split and meet for lunch. After drinks, we remained together for a while, moving through town. I remember we passed the Town Hall. I appreciated the architecture until Josh nudged me.
We approached two buskers, spaced beside the façade of the stately building, singing and strumming guitars. Josh often made fun of street performers. I noticed the upturned hat at their feet, a smattering of spare change and low-value notes inside. Josh strolled close to the first busker and the next. He pretended to drop a performance tip. He walked on, giggling. Coral, unimpressed, loaded off 'immature' to him. He kept his grin until she wagged her finger.
He stilled his mirth though Ruby nudged his elbow.
The buskers, their livelihood and creativity - I didn't care one way or the other. I'd never dropped a financial reward to one, appreciated their skill, or understood their artistic sharing.
Josh and I spent the morning checking sports tops and fishing gear. We joined the girls around midday outside Myers. Neither girl carried shopping bags, but Ruby's neck sported a stunning watermelon scarf. It more than suited her. The scarf highlighted her features and gave her a youthful, girlish charm. I felt it mollified the flint of Ruby's too worldly-wise teenage knowledge.
Coral excitedly unleashed a shopping story, jiggling as she gave Josh a smoochy peck. Ruby hummed an indistinct tune and tapped her fingers on her thighs. The petite pixie waited as she let Coral take the lead, unpacking her narrative to us boys.
Coral enthused in her retelling.
"I saw it draped around a mannequin in a boutique store window, and instantly, I grabbed Rube's hand."
She stopped her tale and twirled Ruby at her waist, three-sixty degrees. In case Josh or I missed a detail.
My mate's summation, "It's a scarf."
"Oh yes, a costly one," stated Coral; she blew Josh an air kiss.
"Rubes saw the price and started yanking me away."
Coral planted her feet apart on the pavement before she continued.
"No, I insisted. It's you, sweetie, and I'm getting it."
I pictured the two engaged in a mental and physical tug of war, neither giving an inch. Somewhere, Ruby accepted the scarf. I suspected she would balance the present later.
"Well, I marched Ruby into the store. The shop assistant had nails to die for. I requested the salesgirl to get the scarf out of the display window, as my heart was set on buying it for my friend."
The brunette's fingers lingered, feeling the scarf's quality as Coral meandered.
"The helpful assistant checked if we wanted to view it in a full-length mirror. Politely, I said, Wrap it around my girlfriend immediately."
Coral's hands provided a flourished animation of how this unfolded.
"My, it suits her, the salesgirl agreed. Her voice sounded sincere, not the slick, false, glib sales mode that annoys me."
Coral glanced at Ruby as the brunette admired her new scarf, reflected in the plate glass of the department store we stood before.
My bestie detailed, "The shop assistant asked if I wanted it gift-wrapped. I told her, No."
The brunette finally chipped into the story, "And Coral finished — No, my friend will wear it now and for always."
"And here we are. Boys, doesn't she look cute!"
Coral's final words sparkled.
Ruby twirled of her own volition, a pirouette to enthral Coral. Josh and I clapped politely at 'cute' because we craved an immediate feed.
As it happened, story time by Coral continued. She opened her petite designer leather satchel; it usually contained a small sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. Today, it also held a yo-yo.
My best friend started her second story when she looped the yo-yo string over her finger and threw it down. The shiny, rose-coloured, plastic wheel whirled between her hand and the pavement. It rose and fell as a happy Coral related to us boys how Ruby brought it, 'as a lark.'
"I'm hungry," moaned Josh, "Enough, Coral, let's eat."
She shoved the yo-yo into her satchel.
Coral grabbed Ruby's hand and, swinging it, urged, "Follow guys."
Finding a suitable lunch spot to feed two near-stomach-rumbling boys proved difficult. School holiday crowds milled the regular eateries. My bestie desired café class. Frustration arrived as every stylish eating place confirmed jam-packed.
Practical Ruby suggested takeaway, easing a Coral huff as my bestie gripped her satchel tight. The brunette charmed her girlfriend, discussing the opportunity to sketch in a park.
Soon, the four of us, munching a salad roll in one hand and slurping a can of soft drink in the other, headed towards the Fitzroy Gardens, a decent walk. Eating and drinking whilst walking defeated the purpose of lunching there. The day improved, and we lucked in a burst of sunshine. The park was nearly empty as we wandered into it.
High trees, colonial statues and spurting fountains passed as Coral sought the perfect bench to sit and sketch. She said a short rest, and we would decide how to spend the afternoon.
My bestie spotted a park bench, giving a broad view. The bench was regular green paint, slated wood, and black cast iron arms. It would seat four easily. Coral spied a brown paper bag. Though quick-handed, Josh stooped and grabbed the scrunched bag from beneath the bench. Coral, Ruby and I circled him as he opened it.
"Oh my God," Coral gasped, her hand going to her mouth, seeing wads of fifty-dollar notes.
"Sheesh, frangers," Josh swore, seeing several condoms atop the bills.
He rapidly fingered the packets in preference to the cash stash.
Like a kangaroo caught in a car's headlights, I stood stunned.
Only the brunette scouted the area beyond the bag.