Grey Water Lady by Kate Pullinger

Grey Water Lady
by Kate Pullinger 

She thought it would be sunny and hot in Australia, even though she knew it was winter.  Summer on the island had been mediocre, drizzly and cool. For the first time ever the kids were so bored by computer games they'd abandon them for jigsaw puzzles, cards, Scrabble and other pre-historic novelties. One morning she'd found them sitting in front of the big window in the grey half-light, tracing raindrop tracks with their fingers.  

Domestic grey water - the recycling of waste water from the bath, sink, shower, washing machine, etc - had become her area of expertise almost by default. In the industry she was known as Grey Water Lady. Fondly.  But still. She'd been flown over by the government to have a look at Melbourne's controversial desalination plant project, but as soon as she got off the plane she realised the clothes she'd packed were completely inappropriate and that she'd have to wear everything in her suitcase all at the same time in order to stay warm. In the taxi to the hotel she saw that her wardrobe failed in other ways as well:  she'd been living on the west coast for more than a decade and had got very used to island style, as though daily life consisted of one very long yoga class. Melbourne, as well as being overcast, windy, and cold, was teeming with sharply dressed women in expensive spike-heeled black leather boots and men in tailor-made suits, their slim woollen overcoats flapping open elegantly.  There was no surfer gear, no weather-proof hiking jackets, and no sturdy amphibious sandals to be seen.  

There were also no kangaroos, koalas, and kookaburras in the city, though she'd been expecting that, and, in fact, she didn't even know what species of animal a kookaburra might be, up there in that old gum tree. She piled her clothes on the bed and laughed at herself until she started crying. Back on the island her marriage was breaking down and Goran had decided to move to Vancouver in the autumn, leaving her and the kids behind. Her consultancy practice was doing well and, as he liked to say, she didn't really need him anymore; humph, she thought, as though it's possible to no longer need the love of your life.  

He had tired of island life, he said, though she knew what he really meant was he had tired of her. 'You're obsessed with water,' he said. 'It's not healthy.'

She couldn't think how to reply. 'It's totally healthy,' she said, hating herself for sounding so worthy. 

'I'm going to move to the city, smoke cigarettes, drink too much beer, and neglect the recycling,' he'd replied.

She laughed, but he was serious.  

Her flight had arrived in the early morning and her Melbourne hosts had given her most of the day off to recuperate; a reception was planned for that evening. She fell asleep in her pile of clothes and woke up at lunchtime, feeling hungry and dehydrated. In the bathroom the water did not go the other way around when she flushed the toilet, and flushing made her want to go over her notes about the session she'd be delivering the next day.    

She dressed in as many layers as she could manage and made her way out onto the city streets. She had intended to go for a walk but instead found herself in a boutique next door to the hotel, drawn in by the shiny jewellery in the store's window.  Paradoxically - for her at least - the clothes were all 'new season' - summer - and so of no use to her.  But she made her way to a sale rack at the back where 'last season' was hanging.  A tall shop assistant wearing her hair in a sleek ponytail made friendly noises while looking at her appraisingly. 'I have just the thing for you,' she said, pointing toward a changing room.  

Behind the curtain she took off her clothes, sat on the bench and shivered. A few minutes passed, and nothing happened.  She began to wonder if she had misunderstood the young woman, when the girl thrust her arm through the curtain. There were two items offered:  a deep orange sleeveless cashmere shift dress, and a blood red boucle wool fitted jacket.  She put them both on, and they were perfect. Winter sunshine.

She looked in the mirror, squaring her shoulders. 'Grey Water Lady,' she said, 'we'll see about that.' She got out her credit card and prepared to pay.  

 

« Read more Winter Tales

---

We asked Kate to recommend a writer who she thinks is not as well known as they deserve to be. Come back on Tuesday to find out who she has chosen as her writer to watch.

---