Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  She pretended to be shocked by his suggestion. “Oh, come now Sir, that’s not the kind of place a young lady should go on her own. Besides, I think I’ve found exactly what I need right here.”

  You’re not a lady, thought Peter as she inched towards him; succubus is more fitting a term for you. He stepped back as far as he could, but was restricted by his office door. “Look,” he stammered, “like I said, I’m flattered, but I’m sorry, I’m just not interested.”

  She stood so close to him that he could see the pores of her skin. If it had not been for the folder he held like a shield in front of him, he had no doubt that he would have been able to feel her body against his. Knowing that he was at his most vulnerable when she was close, he tried to sidestep her and put some distance between them.

  Jane realised what he was doing and put her hands up in a resigned manner. “It’s a little late for propriety, wouldn’t you say?”

  Now that she was further away, he felt his panic subside and anger take over. How dare she put him on the spot like this? Why couldn’t she just take the hint and leave him alone? “No, I wouldn’t say,” he responded curtly, “I told you already, it’s over.”

  Jane stared at him coldly. “Well Sir, I’m pleased to hear you think so, but given this whole affair involves me as well, don’t you think I should have some say in when it’s over?”

  Peter looked Jane in the eye and spoke firmly. “Jane, I don’t know how much clearer I can be, it’s over. In fact, it never even began. I just let myself get carried away and I shouldn’t have.”

  Jane shook her head from side to side. “No Sir, it’s not over. We still have some unfinished business.” With that, she began unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Please don’t do that, Jane. You’ll only embarrass yourself.” Peter could hear the panic return to his voice and looked around for an escape route. He took a step forward, but Jane stepped in front of him and blocked him. Satisfied that he was not going to run away from her, she took a step back and undid the last button.

  Peter cast his eyes over her head and down the hall so that he would not have to look at the smooth skin being unveiled in front of him. “Jane, please leave.”

  “You don’t mean that, Sir. I can tell by your eyes that you want me, so here,” – she opened her blouse, exposing her breasts – “come and get it.”

  “Jane, please don’t make me be rude to you. Just do up your shirt and leave.”

  Jane stared at him in disbelief. The look on her face told Peter that she finally appeared to understand that he was not about to continue where they had left off over a week ago.

  Recognising her change in mood, Peter almost felt sorry for her. “Look,” he said more gently, “I’m sorry Jane, but I have to go.” Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out.

  ***

  “Shit,” Peter swore out loud as he remembered he had to lock the door. He sat on a nearby bench and lit a cigarette. Jane would not be able to see him where he sat unless she turned around on her way out. He waited impatiently for her to appear. If he didn’t get home soon, Maggie would wonder where he was.

  A short time later, she appeared. She ran out of the building and towards the car park without a backwards glance. In less than a minute, she was out of sight. Peter stubbed out his cigarette, locked the door and walked briskly to his car. Half expecting to see her waiting for him, he was relieved to find the car park almost empty. The few cars that were there were also empty. He took a couple of deep breaths before getting into his car and driving away.

  Despite not finding her in his rear-view mirror once, he nervously looked over his shoulder all the way home. He pulled into his driveway and got out of the car. He noticed his parents’ car parked on the street and silently thanked God for their presence. With a bit of luck, there would be too much commotion for anyone to notice his edginess. He locked his car and took one last look around. As far as he could tell, he had not been followed. Maybe this time she got the message and today would be the last he heard from her.

  Chapter 16

  Tuesday, 18 December 1979

  It’s been nearly two days since Shortie went to hospital and he still isn’t home. Mum keeps telling me he’ll be home in time for my party. She better be right!

  I still have four more days to go. So far, there are eleven kids coming from school. Meagan Little isn’t coming and neither is Karen Dobson. Michael Simpson and Jeanette Davis still haven’t told me if they’re coming. Mum invited Aunty Audrey and Uncle Mick as well as Aunty Joanne and Uncle Dennis. Between them they have five kids. Kerrie-Anne and Bridget are the only ones around my age, but because they’re my cousins all five will be there. Even my Aunty Clare is coming, only she doesn’t like being called Aunty, she reckons it makes her sound old.

  Clare is Dad’s sister. Out of all my aunties, she’s my favourite. I don’t think my other aunties like her much though, because they always talk about her whenever she comes around. They reckon she’s a hippy and that she should act her age. They think that because she’s nearly twenty-seven, she should be settling down and having a family, not gallivanting around like she’s still at uni.

  Whenever Clare comes to visit, she always talks to me about stuff. Not just kid stuff either, grown up stuff. She told me once that she likes to talk to me because I still know how to have fun. She reckons that most grownups don’t know how to have fun so they spend their lives gossiping about those that do. I thought it was nice of her to come all the way from Hamilton just for my party, especially since she doesn’t have any kids to bring.

  If you count the grownups, there’ll be over twenty-five people all told. I can’t wait.

  Tom’s mum said he had to stay home today and spend some time with Jim, so he isn’t allowed out. I hope he doesn’t have to stay home the whole time Jim’s here. Mum and Dad are both at work. Dad said that the holidays are the busiest time of the year for him because lots of people want to get their cars tuned-up before going away for Christmas. We never go away at Christmas, or any other time for that matter. The closest we came to going away was the year before last when we went camping at the Watagans. We’d only been there a day when Brian got sick from drinking the water and we had to come home early. We even got a tent especially for the camping trip and it hasn’t been used since. Dad said he’d think about letting me use it during the holidays. I asked him if I could camp out in the back yard and invite some friends.

  Mum only works two days a week. She works at the doctor’s in Toronto answering the phone and serving customers. Even though she’s not there much, she seems to know everything that’s wrong with everyone. I always hear her telling Mrs O’Reilly things when she comes over for a cup of tea. Mrs O’Reilly is Mum’s best friend. She comes over all the time for a cup of tea. Sometimes Mum goes to her place instead. I don’t like her very much, but I would never tell Mum that. She always looks down her nose at us and makes fun of us. I don’t know why either, because her son is a delinquent who can’t even read or write, even though he’s twelve. I’m sure she’ll be over this afternoon when Mum gets home. She usually is. The only time she doesn’t come is on weekends when Mr O’Reilly is home.

  Kate and Tracy are in charge when Mum and Dad are at work. We’re usually at school when they’re at work, so it doesn’t happen very much. Today is the last day Mum has to work before Christmas. She usually works Tuesdays and Fridays, but the doctors are shut this Friday because of Christmas. She doesn’t have to go back for two weeks after that. Dad said he’s working right up to Christmas and then straight afterwards as well.

  Kate and Tracy aren’t too bad when they’re in charge. They hardly ever tell me what to do. They just stay in their room all day listening to their stupid music. Mum says I’m not allowed to go too far when she and Dad aren’t home and I have to make sure I tell Kate and Tracy where I’m going. Not that they care.

  I went to tell Kate and Tracy that I was going to see if Dianne was home. I opened
their bedroom door and stuck my head in. Tracy was sitting on her bed cutting out pictures from a Teen Beat magazine. Above her bed was a huge poster of the Bay City Rollers and a smaller one of Sherbet. Kate was sitting on the floor flicking through an old copy of 16.

  Even though they’re twins, they look nothing alike. Kate takes after Dad with her long brown hair and curls, and Tracy looks more like Mum. Tracy is taller than Kate and has straight blonde hair like me. All of us have blue eyes, even Mum and Dad. Like most twins, they have a lot in common, especially their bad taste in music. Kate’s wall matched Tracy’s, except her posters were of Skyhooks and Abba. On the far wall, which they share, are posters of Leif Garret, Scott Baio and one of John Travolta with Olivia Newton-John. It looked just like I’d died and come back on the set of Countdown or something. Only Scott Baio’s an actor, so he wouldn’t be on Countdown.

  “I’m just going to see if Dianne’s home,” I let them know.

  “Mmm,” replied Kate, without even looking up.

  “Then, I’m going to run away with a black fella.” I wasn’t really. I just wanted to see if they were listening.

  “Okay,” said Tracy. “Don’t be late.”

  Just as I thought, not listening.

  ***

  “Dianne! Jenny’s here!” Dianne’s Mum steered me into their lounge room. I always have to remember not to stare at her. She’s got the biggest bum I’ve ever seen. The rest of her isn’t very big, but she has this enormous backside that jiggles from side to side like a bowl of jelly when she walks. “She’s in her room playing, why don’t you go and join her.”

  I walked down the hall to Dianne’s room, only it wasn’t her room anymore. “Here I am,” she laughed.

  She’d changed rooms since I’d last been at her place. Her new room was her mum’s old sewing room. The light shone in through the sheer curtains, making it impossible for me to see into the bedroom with any detail. All I could see was the silhouette of Dianne sitting on top of her double bed, which she had all to herself. Standing at the door squinting, I must have looked odd to Dianne who could see me clearly. “Well, come and see for yourself, it’s just lovely,” she gushed.

  I entered her room with as much enthusiasm as one about to be shown someone else’s boring holiday slides. Puke, everything was pink! The walls, the bedspread, the frilly pillows on her bed, even the rug on the floor. All pink! The only things that weren’t pink were the yellow Romper Stompers and the red Hoppity Hop ball on the floor. You can tell she is an only child, she’s spoiled rotten.

  “I like your new room. It looks really nice.” Mum says that when you tell small fibs they’re called white lies. She said white lies are okay if you’re only saying them to be nice. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  What a dumb thing to say. I could see she was playing with her Baby Alive. Dianne’s only a couple of months younger than me, but she still plays with dolls all the time. I have dolls too, but I don’t have anything as good as a Baby Alive. My best doll is the bride doll Grandma got me for Christmas when I was eight. She stands in the corner of my room. I don’t play with her or anything, she’s not that kind of doll. Besides, I’m too old to play with dolls! “Wanna come and see our cubby? It’s already finished.”

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be allowed,” Dianne said in a sooky voice.

  “It’s not far. It’s just behind my fence so your mum can yell out from here if she wants.”

  Dianne went to check with her mum who said it was okay for her to come out, but she wasn’t allowed to get dirty. I don’t know how she’s supposed to do that. I can never stay clean no matter how hard I try. That’s why Mum always makes me wear old clothes to play in.

  We walked back to my place and squeezed through the gap in the back fence where the palings were missing. “Can you see where we made it?” I asked.

  I knew full well she couldn’t. Before we left yesterday, Tom covered the front of the cubby with branches to make sure it was hidden properly. They were still there today, which meant no one’s found it yet. I moved the branches away so we could get inside. I can even stand up inside, but only in the middle where it’s tallest.

  “Far out,” Dianne gushed, “this is so tops.”

  We thought so too. Dad came and had a look yesterday and he said it was the best cubby he’d ever seen.

  Even Dad thinks it’s okay to tell white lies.

  We went back outside and walked along the tree trunk. If you’re really careful you can walk almost to the end. The top part of the tree broke off when it fell down in the storm. Dad tied some rope to the end of it and made a tyre swing for us. He had to cut lots of branches off first so that we didn’t swing into them and hurt ourselves. Mum said it wasn’t safe because the swinging might make the tree fall over, but Dad said he checked it out and the branch that’s holding the tree off the ground is rock solid.

  I noticed that someone had twisted the rope around the trunk of the tree to make the swing shorter. I bet it was those brats Gregory and Max from next door. They’re always playing with our stuff when we’re not around. I walked to the end of the trunk and laid on my tummy to unwind it. The tree dug into my bruised tummy and it hurt like hell.

  I told Dianne I would give her a push, so we got up to walk back down the trunk. Dianne tripped on a bit of branch and fell off. The tree isn’t too far off the ground so she didn’t fall far. When I looked down, she was lying on her back, trying to speak, but no noise came out. Holy shit! What was happening? I raced down the trunk and knelt beside her. “Are you alright?”

  When I panic, I say stupid things, I can’t help it, I don’t know what else to say. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to work out that she wasn’t alright, but I had no idea what to do. I was just about to get her to sit up so she could breathe better, when Dianne offered a better suggestion. “Get Mum,” she wheezed.

  Now there was something I could do, I didn’t need to be told that twice. I got up and ran as fast as I could to Dianne’s place.

  Chapter 17

  Saturday, 23 November 1968

  Maggie handed Peter the tray of sausages and rissoles and instructed him to take them outside. The coleslaw and potato salad was already made, so apart from cooking the barbeque, there was nothing left to do. Scanning the kitchen to make sure she had everything, Maggie grabbed two beers from the fridge and followed Peter outside.

  Stephen and Mark were playing cricket with Susan and Rebecca. “Who’s winning?” Peter asked, “girls or boys?”

  “Boys of course,” Mark responded.

  “Do you girls need a hand?” Maggie enquired on hearing Mark’s reply.

  “No thanks Aunty Maggie,” Rebecca answered, “we’ll be fine. We’re just letting them win because we know how much they’ll sulk if they’re beaten by a pair of girls.”

  Stephen laughed. “Is that right? We’ll see about that.”

  “That’s a six!” yelled Mark, as Stephen’s ball hit the fence.

  Susan looked at Maggie and shrugged good-naturedly. “Okay. I give up, the boys win.”

  Rebecca scolded her sister for letting her side down. “You can’t just let them win.”

  “Watch me,” she challenged. She put the ball next to the wicket and walked over to where the others were sitting. Rebecca shoved Mark playfully and said something to him that no one else could hear. Maggie smiled. It was nice to see the kids getting along so well. Rebecca was only a month younger than Stephen and Susan was six months older than Michelle. But, despite their age, they still enjoyed messing around like they did when they were little. The only difference being that the teasing got more serious as they got older.

  Watching the kids interact together, Maggie suspected that Mark fancied Rebecca. There seemed to be a lot of flirting going on between them. Even Mary had noticed. “What’s that Mark like?” she asked Maggie. “He seems to have taken more than a passing interest in Rebecca.”

  “He’s a nice kid. She could do worse.”

&nbs
p; “Good, I’d hate for her to get hurt again. She’s just gotten over Joey.”

  Maggie tried to recall if she’d had the pleasure of meeting Joey. For an eighteen year old, Rebecca had already had a remarkable number of boyfriends, most of whom were so fleeting that Maggie never really got to meet them. “Which one was Joey?”

  “He was the one that got drunk at Rebecca’s eighteenth. You know the dark brooding guy?”

  “Ah yes, the rebel without a cause, how could I have forgotten him?” Maggie recalled the Bryl-creamed, bodgie wanna-be who stood holding the fence up all afternoon. Despite his fashion sense being at least a decade out of date, he acted for all the world like he was the coolest guy on earth. With his slicked back hair, snake-proof trousers and delinquent tendencies, Maggie was not surprised that Mary was concerned for her daughter. Mary knew that Joey was taking advantage of Rebecca who was almost five years younger than him, but her worst fear was that she would become his widgie girlfriend.

  For three months Mary watched helplessly as Joey’s influence over her daughter became more apparent. Then, without warning, he was gone and it was over. Within weeks, Rebecca had returned to her usual vivacious self. Rebecca did not tell her mother what had happened, and she refused to answer any questions. In the end, Mary was so thankful that Joey was no longer a part of Rebecca’s life that she counted her blessings and asked no more. That had been over a month ago. At the time, Rebecca had sworn off boys. Now it seemed that Mark had rekindled her interest in the male species. The two of them had spent most of the afternoon with their heads together, leaving Stephen and Susan to mingle with the adults.

  Even though Susan was the older of the two, she had yet to have her first serious relationship. While it was true that Rebecca was the pretty one, what Susan lacked in looks, she made up for in wit. Without a doubt, it was Susan that would make something of her life. Having completed an Arts degree last year with a major in anthropology and political science, she had all but finished her honours year at Sydney University. From all accounts, she was topping her class in most subjects.