Chapter 10: Celebrities

Well, the meal at Lazy Susan’s was spectacular and was eventually complimented by the restaurant for reasons explained below. I proudly walked in escorting three of the most fabulous women ever seen before in the establishment. Our waitress immediately thought Tina was my daughter, so for the rest of the night Bonnie’s youngest sister kept calling me “Daddy”, which made all three girls laugh every time. Being only fifteen years older than Tina, I could have taken offence, but my only wish was that while the sisters were happy, so was I.

Bonnie already knew my life story. She was aware of my first experience as an expectant father, never knowing my father and losing my mother to alcoholism while I was young, and she squeezed my hand in support the first time Tina mentioned the word ‘Daddy’; I returned her smile as if to say that I was perfectly all right with what Tina had said in all innocence. Then I turned with a mock frown to tell Tina that if she didn’t behave herself tonight, “ ... Daddy will have to put my favourite daughter over my knee and spank your arse.” She replied with a pouting, “Sowwy, Daddy,” which made all four of us all laugh.

The restaurant staff may not have recognised Bonnie at first, but when she stood up with her sisters and lifted her one glass of wine for the night to raise a toast to her “white knight”, one of the female guests immediately recognised her, took a photo of Bonnie with that raised glass and shared it with all her friends. Then she told the rest of her table that she was the Bonnie that was, “the woman in the news all week”. That Furphy spread like wildfire and soon the restaurant filled with local friends of diners and just as soon all the restaurant knew who she was and wanted her to pose with them for selfies. I got out my camera from its bag and took my own photos of her posing with guests and the staff. Before long all the kitchen staff came out to get in the picture too. The place was in joyous uproar. I still hadn’t totally realised exactly how well known and popular Bonnie was as an international celebrity, even at the level of the common people, many who’d never heard of Vogue magazine or haute couture fashion.

Eventually, Monika took charge and insisted that everyone had had enough of a slice of Bonnie and ordered them all to allow us to enjoy our meal in peace.

Throughout, Bonnie was perfectly calm and relaxed. She spoke to everyone as though she was delighted to meet them and particularly made time for the children in the restaurant. She was amazing and my heart went out to her even more than it had before, in pride and admiration as well as the love I was increasingly feeling for her. Whatever befell us in the future, she would possess my heart forever. And the crowd happily settled down after Monika’s request, realising that they had shared a special moment with a special person, that the moment had passed and everyone agreed that they had enjoyed the experience. That didn’t stop our table still being the centre of attention for the rest of our meal, of course, but the atmosphere was lively, non-threatening and didn’t really impinge on us at all.

I did feel a little uncomfortable at the start of the evening. Only a few days before, you may remember, I was still in a long-standing attitude of shunning any personal contact, let alone being on the periphery of public attention. All around me I could hear whispered speculation from a few that I was ‘the rough diamond truckie’, while others thought I was too well turned out in designer wear to be a truck driver. In conclusion, the general consensus appeared to agree that Monika was my wife, Tina my daughter and Bonnie was therefore my sister-in-law and that ‘the truckie’ was just a diversionary hunk that Bonnie must’ve used and dropped along the way. ‘Hunk’ was their word, not mine.

It was all so strange that I felt I could almost feel I didn’t quite belong here, that I could see my relationship from the edge of her aura. We were so different, Bonnie and I. She was always outgoing, sharing herself with those around her. Although she was always the centre of attention, she gave her attention to others just as good as she got, so she worked her way into their hearts and made contact at a level where she fitted comfortably. Me, I’m an awkward curmudgeon with too many rough edges to fit it. I felt that I was just one level up from ocker, as though I was one and recognised what I was, and could do little about it.

I knew I was in love with Bonnie and always would be, and I was as sure as any man trying to understand how a sheila thinks and regards us blokes, that she loved me too. But was this just a flash in the pan, like a shooting star that briefly burns, or a supernova that lights up the sky for eternity?

Now that I was lovingly intimate with the woman who all around me focused their attention on, and lavished with affection by her in the way of smiles, and little touches by her lovely siblings, as well as treated with respect by strangers I had never seen before, made me feel easier coming out of my shell. Even more so after I supplied a selection of images from my camera on a memory stick that one of their staff had enough tech savvy to put on a flatscreen in the corner of the restaurant on a repeating slideshow loop. Each image brought out a round of applause from staff and guests alike as each first appeared. Even though I hadn’t a flash gun with me, the internal camera flash was good enough in those photos that I had selected to share. The manageress asked if they could use the photos for publicity. A glance and nod from both Bonnie and her agent sister Monika told me that they had no objection, so I happily agreed. In response the manageress refused to take any payment for the meal and drinks at the end of the evening. Bonnie seemed happy with this arrangement and was enthusiastic in response. She was probably used to this perk of celebrity, I wasn’t. I left a sizeable tip for the hardworking waiters to salve my conscience.

By close to the end of the meal, the whispered speculation of my role in the group had shifted, so that they now thought I was a fashion photographer travelling with the three sisters and, from all the light, affectionate touches I was receiving, that I was probably in an intimate relationship with them all. The girls heard a stage whisper of the current theory along those lines, while I rolled my eyes skyward, before one by one, starting with Monika, then Tina, and Bonnie, they walked around the table, sat in my lap and pashed on me for a full thirty seconds each, with Bonnie at least doubling the pash time and remained on my lap, happily posing for a number of photos that made it clear who was claiming me, at least for now.

I went bright red and amused myself speculating that most of the raw snaps would look like she was flirting with the devil himself or a human lobster. I got Tina to take a shot of us on my camera and that kept my mind off the embarrassment I was experiencing by working through in my head the techniques of producing a cut-out filter mask to correct the red hue and saturation of the exposure.

After the meal we walked down to a nearby night club at the invitation of the owner and his wife, charming long-standing Hong Kong Chinese immigrants, who had been dining in the crowded restaurant next to our table. The three girls welcomed the invitation and wanted to work off the effects of the meal through dance. We were whisked inside without preamble and taken to a VIP area with a tiny private dance floor, where the girls could dance in splendid isolation. It wasn’t long before they soon pulled me in to join them for a handful of successive dances, even though I dance like a landed sea trout.

I had been keeping an eye on the truck left near the airport via the internet from time to time on either my sattie or Bonnie’s mobile, but it had become increasingly difficult to do so with so much going on in the restaurant. So I had called Mike in Melbourne and he was happy to watch them for me from home until I was able to get to the truck after our evening out. The thought of me going out nightclubbing had the bastard in stitches. He said he would ring and alert me if anything appeared to be happening. It was a happy surprise to Mike that Bonnie and I had become an item at all, let alone so soon, however short-lived we both agreed that might be for. He was going to tell his wife and daughters immediately, knowing they were going to be so happy for me, and delighted to know someone associated with such celebrity.

In light of his offer and genuine wishes for a happy outcome, however unlikely, I even apologised to Mike for being such a miserable bugger for the last five years but he was generous enough to say he thought I was the best boss he’d ever had.

“Because you was always fair,” Mike said. “You showed no favouritism, even to your uncle, I felt I always knew where I stood, and confident that the company was in good hands, and when you let the company go you made sure the existing staff were well covered. Your Uncle Pete explained your circumstances, and swore us to secrecy. We all understood that the sadness in your life was your burden and that it had never really impinged on our working relationship or with those of the rest of the workforce. That is borne out by staff turnover was near zero and most of the new staff were relos or mates that knew they were joining a winner.”

The drinks at the night club were also complimentary, but I wanted a clear head for the night and morning so I drank one glass of fizzy orange and followed up with tap water whenever I was parched. Bonnie said she never had more than one glass of wine, so she joined me in the orange fizzy and preferred bottled water and no ice, due to a golden rule she had followed wherever she travelled. She rarely drank alcohol at all, although she did confess that when I rejected her designs on me on Chrissie Day at the cookout, she finished drinking the bottle of wine we had started, which was why she didn’t come to the truck first thing the next morning when Shona came looking for her husband.

Monika and Tina did have more than enough to drink at both restaurant and nightclub and, still affected by jet lag, they were full as boots as soon as we hit fresh air. Bonnie and I virtually had to carry them home, which was only about five minutes’ stagger away.

Fortunately, we were not mobbed at any time in the nightclub, with bouncers much in evidence, but lots of people wanted to capture images of this exotic creature and her delightful sisters on their mobiles. Naturally, all three cheerfully posed long and enthusiastically for them. By midnight, when Bonnie and I said our goodbyes to the owner and his lovely wife, who Bonnie and I had each danced with a couple of times, the three girls were asked to stand by the DJ for a few moments and speak to the general crowd outside of the VIP area, which they did.

I wandered anonymously around the gallery above the main dance floor, and took lots of photos, which were quite grainy at that distance, due the ambient lighting available. I knew they would be, but I hoped to capture the atmosphere and looks of pleasure on the three girls’ faces and those of interest that I picked out in the crowd.

For an instant, I froze, thinking I had recognised Maggie coming out of the ladies’ dunnies, dressed in a little black strapless cocktail dress, with her hair pinned up, baring her shoulders, but before I could bring the camera up and photograph her, though, the lookalike had disappeared into the crowd.

Back at the Waterfront flat, Bonnie helped the two girls undress, wash up and get to bed while I rang Mike to say I was about to head back to the truck.

“Don’t be a drongo, Mark mate, you’re on a good lurk, so go with it. The bloody truck’s livery shows it’s from a paper mill, so’s far as anyone’s guess, it’s carrying thousands of recycled date rolls. Who’s going to flog off stolen crapper crepes? Even if someone breaks in, you need special shaped forks on a forklift to unload and reload those newsprint reels onto another truck. That’s not happening. It’s early Saturday morning, you’re delivering the newsprint to the newspaper at 8am. I’ll keep watch in the meantime and I’ll get my head down tomorrow while the missus takes the ankle biters off to swimming class. She knows how grateful we are for the deal you done with the new owners. Strewth, if I had half your luck! Now that you’re no longer my boss, you dopy bastard, I can tell you to do the sensible thing for once in your miserable life, and give your lovely lady one for me while you’re bloody well at it!”

When Bonnie had seen the girls bedded down for the night, I told her what Mike had offered, only regarding watching the truck, and that I’d accepted his offer gladly.

“Well, let’s go to our room and get ready for bed,” she said, “we need to get up in only three hours to pick up the truck and deliver the load at six.”

Well, I think we did sleep for about one of those hours, although it didn’t feel like we’d done more than blinked by the time the alarm clamoured for us to shift our arses and get up.

With the wonderful recuperative powers of the young student, Tina was up and dressed in casual clothes as soon as we were moving around. Mind you, both Bonnie and Tina’s ideas of dressing ‘casual’ for Monaco, would pass for designer chic dressing up for a party over here in Darwin.

“I want to go with you, so I can see the look on your ex-wife’s face,” Tina insisted.

“I don’t think she’ll be there, sweetheart,” Bonnie said, “we’re booked in at 8am, but we’re going to try and get in at six, and besides, they are expecting a woman truckie, not Mark.”

“Get real, Bon, this is a newspaper we are talking about, even it it is a provincial one. You of all people know how nosy newspapers are. Papers can be classed as good, bad or ugly, but they are always nosy. They will have picked up the news about you travelling to Darwin in a paper truck. Where else was it going to be delivering to? Even at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, while I was waiting for Monies’ connecting flight, your story was all over the French national television news, with this handsome truck driver standing protectively next to you, right in front of a paper mill truck, with the company name all over it. Mark’s ex-wife definitely knows you’re coming Bon, she’ll be there for 8am and she’ll come hot-foot if she’s called before you’re unloaded.”