by John Kelly
In the kitchen of her inner city housing commission flat, Elsie Steedman tended to the dishes after breakfast. At eighty-one years of age, she did not move quickly. Just getting up each morning was a chore. But she knew she had to. She wanted to continue to be vigorous, alert, and knew that lying in bed was not conducive to an active life. It was two days since the funeral of her adopted daughter Andrea. It had been a good funeral, marred only by the absence of her son Warwick and daughter-in-law, Susan who were recovering from the motor vehicle accident. The funeral had been held in the chapel at the funeral director's premises. Former associates of Andrea had said nice things about her. They played her favourite music. As Elsie reflected on the funeral, she felt a certain satisfaction that she had been the one responsible for giving Andrea opportunities in life. She had provided opportunities that might otherwise not have happened, had Elsie not adopted her. As she washed the breakfast dishes, she gazed out the window and watched as young children from the housing commission played in the quadrangle. Thoughts of Andrea playing in the back yard of the rented family home as a child came to mind. She hoped the young children she watched playing, would have opportunities in life similar to Andrea's. It was nine o' clock when the doorbell rang. Drying her hands, Elsie opened the door to find her son Robert standing in the passageway. Looking slightly nervous, Robert did not wait to be greeted.
"Have you heard anything?" He snapped.
"What?" Elsie said.
"Have you heard anything? About the money? About Andrea's will?"
"Robert, how insensitive can you be?" she replied. "Your sister's remains are still warm in the urn, her sister Maria is lying in hospital in a coma, and all you can think about is money. What on earth has made you this way?" It was a rhetorical question. "Come in and sit down. I'll get you a cup of tea."
"I don't want a cup of tea, and I can't do anything about Maria. I want to know what is happening with Andrea's money," he insisted, his nervousness now compounded with agitation.
"You will have to talk with Warwick," she answered. "He is the executor. He has all the details and when the time is appropriate he will have a family meeting and everything will be dealt with. Now why don't you come inside and relax while I get you something to calm you down. What is the matter with you anyway?"
"Warwick. Bloody Warwick." He answered.
Robert's demeanour troubled Elsie. He was dim-witted, impatient and impulsive, but his behaviour this morning was troubling.
"Are you in trouble? Do you want to come in and talk?" she asked.
"No. I'm fine. I don't want to come in. I have to meet someone." He answered and made a move to leave.
"Would you like me to give Warwick a call?" she asked knowing that he was too frightened to call him direct.
"I'd like to know what's going on," he answered. "That's all."
"Okay. Well, you go off to your meeting, and I will speak to Warwick today and call you at home tonight. How does that sound?"
"Okay. Whatever." He answered begrudgingly.
Within minutes of Robert's departure, Elsie's phone rang. It was her daughter Margaret Sanders. She too bypassed the trivial opening greetings.
"Have you heard anything?" Margaret asked excitedly.
"Is that you Margaret? Good morning, how are you?" Elsie said, trying to settle her down.
"I'm fine. Have you heard anything?"
"Goodness me, this is ridiculous," Elsie muttered. "No Margaret, I haven't heard anything. I presume you are referring to Andrea's will. I have just told Robert the same thing. Warwick is in charge of all that and he will attend to it in good time. Are you the slightest bit interested in how Maria is? What on earth is the matter with you and Robert?" There was a momentary pause. Margaret bypassed the reference to Maria and broke the news.
"I'm leaving George," she said. "I can't stand it anymore. He has someone else on the side. I just know it. And anyway I have met someone else. Now that I'm going to inherit some money I don't have to stay with him. I can start again," she continued, enjoying the release of tension as she poured out her intentions. Elsie sighed as she listened, surprised that Margaret had opened up to her about a new relationship, but somewhat relieved that she had at least come to a firm decision, albeit somewhat late in life.
"You have never said anything before about meeting someone else. Who is this man?" There was a long pause.
"Margaret?are you still there? Tell me about this man."
Another long pause?then finally Margaret spoke.
"It's not a man," she said.
An eerie silence washed across the airwaves as both women drew breath. Margaret's adrenalin flowed, freeing the tension that had been building inside her. From head to toe she felt a release never experienced before. The truth was out. What a relief! Elsie was speechless, momentarily shocked, but stable. She had lived too long, seen and heard too much, to succumb to a knee-jerk reaction. It was Elsie who spoke first.
"I see," she said slowly. "And how long have you felt this way?"
"Ever since I met her," she replied. It was the most wonderful feeling. I didn't realize what was happening for weeks until it hit me."
"What is the lady's name?"
"Her name is Annette. She's a few years younger than me."
"Where did you meet her?" Elsie asked.
"Promise not to laugh?"
"Why would I do that?"
"I met her at a Christian Pentecostal prayer meeting," Margaret confided with a nervous faltering laugh.
"My God. What on earth were you doing at one of those?"
"I find them very uplifting if you must know," Margaret answered defensively, now finding strength in her convictions.
"But you have never been a religious person before. What brought this on?"
"One guess, mother!"
"What?"
"That pig of a man I married. What else? For years that man has ignored me, shut me out. He hardly ever talks to me anymore; he socializes with his friends and whoever else. He barely gives me enough money to live on."
"Darling I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was like that. You've never spoken to me about it before," Elsie sympathized.
"I was too ashamed to speak about it until I started going to prayer meetings. No one is too ashamed of anything there. Everyone pours out their problems, and there's always someone ready to listen. It's not all singing, and hand-clapping, and praying you know. They actually help."
"How did you get involved with them?"
"It was one Sunday last March, George and I had a fight and I stormed out of the house and went walking. I passed a church where there was some singing inside and it sounded nice, so peaceful and warm. It was also starting to rain, so I went inside."
"Last March! So you've been going for a year already?"
"Yes it's about that long. I hadn't really thought about it in terms of time."
"And that's where you met this woman?Annette did you say?"
"Yes. It's a bit more complicated than that, but yes, that's how it began. There was this Pastor or priest or something and he spoke from the pulpit with such conviction. He invited everyone to come along the following Wednesday to a seminar and promised that if we did, our lives would be transformed in a very special way."
"So you went?" Elsie concluded.
"Yes. I told George I was going out with the girls and off I went."
"And what happened?"
"There was lots of singing and hand-clapping; lots of body language, lots of spontaneous praise, and worship by different people. Such faith! It was very weird at first and I felt quite uncomfortable. I was almost about to leave when this lady came and stood alongside me and began talking with me. She made me feel more comfortable, less inhibited. I can't even remember now what she said, but it was enough for me to decide to stay a little longer."
"Was this Annette?"
"No. I met her later. It was a couple of meetings later. She gave a talk one night. It was so powerful. She said that everyone who was at the meeting
that night, had been brought here by the power of God's Spirit. She said the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity had called us here to find a new life; a new purpose in our lives. She said we had been called to experience a new relationship with Jesus."
"Well, excuse me," Elsie interrupted, "this new purpose, this new relationship with Jesus didn't seem to stop you from a behaving in an utterly insensitive, callous and shameful way at the hospital the day Andrea died."
"Yes I know, I'm sorry about that. It's Robert. He brings out the worst in me I'm afraid. Sometimes I think he is the manifestation of Satan."
"Goodness me, I can't believe I'm hearing this." Elsie said. "You sound so unlike the person I know. I'm going to take a bit of time absorbing all of this."
"I didn't intend telling you all of this. Not yet anyway. It just came out. I just wanted to know what was happening with Andrea's money. I'm at a point where I want to make some hard decisions and I need to know where I stand financially." Margaret said.
"Well I'm sorry to hear about you and George. I wish the two of you could make things right. But if you can't or don't want to, then separating is probably the best thing for you. As for this Annette, well, I don't know what to say about that."
"You don't have to say anything Mum. Time will sort all of that out. Can you talk to Warwick and ask him to at least tell us what he knows?"
"Why can't you talk to him yourself? He's your brother. He won't bite you." Elsie replied.
"I don't want to. I find Warwick intimidating. He makes me feel uncomfortable. He makes me feel?" Margaret hesitated, unsure whether to continue. "He makes you feel what?" Elsie prompted. There was a pause before Margaret spoke again.
"?.He makes me feel a failure. As if my life has been a waste. There he is, all happily married, wealthy, fine house, car, all the trappings, it's intimidating mother! When I speak with him, it's like we're not equals. It's like he's the club president and I'm just somebody in the room. I hate that. And now he's controlling the purse strings to Andrea's money and that just vindicates all the feelings I'm having about him."
"Okay," Elsie interrupted, "you don't need to say anymore. I understand. I suspect Robert feels the same way judging by the way he reacted earlier. All right, I'll speak with him and call you back sometime later. Please don't do anything rash until you know where you stand. Don't say anything to George just yet."
"Thank you mum. I'm sorry to dump this on you."
"That's all right. I'll call you tomorrow. Bye."
Elsie replaced the telephone receiver, letting out a huge sigh as she did. What had she done wrong she wondered, that her children, her middle aged children couldn't even talk to each other without feeling uncomfortable. As she made her way back to the kitchen, her eyes caught sight of the family photograph standing on the sideboard. The photo showed her late husband Arthur, herself, Warwick, Margaret, Andrea and Robert, all smiles, all happy. With a deep breath, and another sigh, her face took on a melancholy look, a resigned sadness. This photograph did not include everybody in her family. Richard was missing, her first born, for whom her heart beat a sad, melancholy lament.
15.
