Monday, 16 May 2011


Brandi stood impatiently outside the Cairns International Airport , alternating between anger and anxiety over the absence of Cush and the Mayoral car. She had left several messages on the answering machine in the penthouse unit; she had sent several text messages and she had even left messages at the Council Chambers that she was arriving back in Cairns from Melbourne at 6.30pm.

She glanced at her ring watch. It was just 7.15pm. Obviously Cushy had forgotten her! The First Lady of Cairns, stranded at the airport!

She walked as briskly as she could outside the terminal, pulling the luggage behind her, aware that every male within view had noticed her. She knew she was a stunner. Even more so, with a few sessions of botox in Melbourne, plus she had been perusaded by Nigel, her hairdresser to change her hair style to a pixie like pageboy cut and colour it a deep red. As Nigel said, with the botox and the new hairstyle, it made her look like a teenager. Nigel even scouted around amongst his pile of celebrity magazines and found a picture of Priscilla Presley taken many decades ago, when she was starring in a TV serial, long before she turned into the Joker's sister from too much botox and too many facelifts. Brandi had to admit, she did look an awful lot like the young Pricilla Presley! She was thrilled with her new look.

So too was the AFL star player thrilled with Brandi's looks. She had met him at a rave while in Melbourne, attended by many models, rock identities and AFL players. Brandi had had a fantastic time at the rave, popping a couple of "E" pills and ending up in the bedroom of the AFL star. It was one of the best nights of her life, reflected Brandi on the plane flying back to Cairns.
She had no regrets. None. None, whatsoever. Oh, she was going to stick with Cushy, because she loved being the First Lady of Cairns, the Lady Mayoress. And she loved the fawning sycophancy of the women journalists around the city and being photographed regularly in "The Cairns Post". However, Brandi reasoned, the sex between her and Cushy had sort of fizzled out in the last couple of months, so a girl had to go and find it somewhere else. Right?
However, something much worse was bothering Brandi than no sex. Something which worried Brandi so much that she tossed and turned in her bed at night, wondering, wondering if she really should pull the pin and up and leave Cushy. Cushy had lied to her about his money!

When they first met, he had told Brandi that he was a multi-millionaire. A multi-millionaire!
Brandi had been so impressed. However, this last year he had been very mean and miserly with his allowances to Brandi. He was only giving her a miserable, teeny weeny two thou a month to buy her clothes, make-up, have her hair done, lunches and all the things that a First Lady needs to do. Brandi fumed! She wondered just how much money he really did have. She needed to find out! If, and if, he had less than what he said - Well, she would make a decision.

"So what has been happening in Cairns this past fortnight?" Brandi asked the taxi driver as it sped out of the airport. The taxi driver, an over-weight sad faced man in his middle years, perked up. Picking up a beautiful woman made his night.

"Well, that Mayor of ours has fired up the city again, by killing a tree full of flying foxes," replied the taxi driver.

"Yes, I heard about that," Brandi replied, loathe to make any judgement, just in case the taxi driver recognised her later. "What else has happened?"

"Another stabbing down at one of the new clubs in town, the Open Pussycat or whatever it is called," answered the chirpy taxi-driver. "Some fella got himself killed and the cops now say that Cairns has a very serious drug problem."

"Doesn't every city?" Brandi said sounding bored, thinking that nothing much had changed in the time she was away.

The taxi-driver didn't reply and the rest of the ride to the building on the Esplanade was undertaken in silence as Brandi brooded with her thoughts.

The unit was dark, but not quite silent as Brandi let herself in. From the bedroom came the sound of snoring as loud as a chain-saw. Brandi saw the empty bottles of red, Cush's jacket and shoes lying on a leather couch in the living room, his tie draped over a chair. In the bed was Cush, spreadeagled across the king sized bed looking much like a beached whale.
Within seconds, Brandi was in Cush's office, looking for the key to unlock his filing cabinet.
Somewhere in there, she reasoned, she would find out just how much her husband was really worth!


Joyce Cush sat at her computer, in her modest duplex in Townsville's Mundingburra. She was busy word-processing the Minutes from the meeting the night before of the Mundingburra Branch of the Australian Labor Party. For Joyce was now the Branch Secretary!

Joyce had been thrilled when the President asked her if she was interested in taking on the job as Secretary. She had never in her life held any important position in any organisation, ever. Oh, when Cush was President of the Gold Coast Lions, she did all his correspondence. She even sat in on meetings and was able to produce Minutes. She supposed that the experience there was sufficient training. In any case, the President provided her with copies of old Minutes and a Handbook which also provided more details on Minute Taking, and rules and etiquette of branch meetings, and she eagerly devoured the information.

She applied herself to her new role with fervour. She had ridden her bicycle around the streets of Mundingburra, calling on former branch members, to see if they would re-new their memberships. Surprisingly, several said they would now that the Branch had a new Secretary!
She had talked about her new role at P & C meetings, and two of the parents had indicated that they too would like to join the branch. Joyce had membership applications ready to take to the next P & C meeting.

Late at night, when she reflected on her new life and the crazy turns it was taking since Cush had walked out on her, she was often overcome with girlish giggles. How Cush would rant and rave if she had joined the Labor Party when she was married to him! Oh, in all the years of marriage to Cush, not once had she ever mentioned how much she had admired Gough Whitlam!
She learned to keep her opinions to herself and outwardly to agree with Cush. On everything.

There had been other developments too in Joyce's life. At a branch meeting one night, she had met Roy, a widowed and retired railway employee. She was aware there was frisson between the two, and it excited her no matter how she tried to ignore it. Oh, it was ridiculous, she would argue to herself. To still feel sexy at the age of sixty! Roy was thin to the point of gaunt, lined and weatherbeaten, but he had very kind eyes and a shy smile. Joyce was picturing that shy smile looking at her over the top of a nice cooked meal and a bottle of wine, one night, maybe soon! Whatever the future, Joyce was beginning to dream again. Like a young girl.


Berry cycled her way home to the flat she shared with Heather at Parramatta Park in Cairns.
It was late evening, and she had had a very busy day. She had prepared the posters advertising a same sex parental support group and calling for interested people to attend a meeting at the flat in a weeks time.

She wondered if she should advertise it on the Community Noticeboards on the radio and the CairnsSun newspaper? She decided however that placing actual posters up around the various community centres, health food outlets, Government services and Hospital, would be sufficient for the time being. She would however also advertise it on the internet, on blogs and email friends within the gay and lesbian community.

As she walked inside the flat, she spied Heather and Monsoon curled up together on the couch. Heather was reading to Monsoon. Berry stood still for a few seconds taking in the closeness, that stark and obvious Mother/daughter bond between the two, and it hurt like a savage kick in the guts. She felt a lump develop in her throat, and tears in her eyes. She was gutted by it!

To be continued......


  1. So which of the three women, Brandi, Joyce or Berry will be the undoing of Cush? Or will it be the delightful Monsoon, all of three years of age? Or will His Fatshit, the Mayor of Cairns, eat and drink himself to a fatal coronary? Whatever, the bells are tolling for Cush.
    For the record my money is still on Brandi.

  2. Brandi sounds more and more like a nasty piece of baggage. Shame there are so many girls out there like her, totally mercenary. I like the way you have developed Joyce into a woman gathering personal strength after decades of dependency and repression married to a domineering ogre like Cush. As for Berry and Heather? Their dilemma has attracted my interest in particular. Look forward as usual to reading more. Keep at it, Terry.

  3. Christ, and here Ive been hanging out for a bit more of the lovely Skye Lovelady. What the hell have you done with her?

  4. I'm amazed at the judgemental attitudes of some of you readers, really amazed. Brandi is such a NICE girl, really. Liz, are you one of the local psychologists who has been reading my blog? I hear on the grapevine that "Cush" has become popular reading for some of the local head shrinks in Cairns. Yeah, and I got the feedback too..."make the blog entries shorter and more punchy. We don't have all day to read!"
    All I can do, is to try. Bob T. of course the lovely Councillor Lovelady will be written back into the series. She has a pivotal role in it after all. Just keep on reading mate.