Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  “I hope you don’t think I’m being rude,” Maggie said with such sincerity that she sounded anything but rude, “but I must say, you girls don’t look like you belong here. You both look far more dashing than this party warrants.” Maggie was conscious of the stylish, but casual pantsuit she was wearing. Next to Charlene and Jane, she felt decidedly frumpy. The only consolation was that she had bothered to take the time to style her hair and apply a small amount of makeup, so she knew she wouldn’t be looking too plain. She smiled when she remembered Peter's earlier compliment that she was going to be the best sort at the party and knew that while ever Peter found her as attractive as he did, she had no reason to feel insecure about her looks. Besides, Charlene and Jane were young enough to be Peter's daughters. What on earth made her think she had any reason to compete with a pair of teenagers, she asked herself.

  “We’re not staying for the party,” Jane explained, “we’re going to a ball. I’m surprised that Peter – I mean Mr Thompson – didn’t tell you that the Undergraduate Society of Engineers Recovery Ball is being held tonight.”

  “You mean you’re not staying for the party?” Stephen questioned.

  Charlene laughed at Stephen’s obvious disappointment. “Sorry Steve, you’re out of luck; we’re not staying.”

  “What time does it finish?” he asked hopefully.

  “About two in the morning,” answered Jane.

  “Shit.”

  Feeling like a fifth wheel, Maggie left the young adults to negotiate the rest of their evening and went inside to say hello to Pam Warner.

  ***

  Pam had redecorated since Maggie had been over last. The effect of the green, swirling wallpaper, combined with the crushed velvet cushions in a variety of bold, primary colours, all blurred together by a rainbow of light spewing forth from a rotating globe that looked to be constructed from nothing more than a plastic ball full of holes and covered in coloured cellophane, made Maggie want to vomit. She closed her eyes and steadied herself against the door handle. Without having had a single drink, Maggie felt like she had already drunk too much.

  Maggie told herself that it could not have been as ghastly as she had first imagined and opened her eyes. She looked at the room for the second time. Unfortunately, her first impression had been correct. Instead of creating the latest in psychedelic grooviness, Pam had succeeded in creating nothing more than a hotchpotch of nauseating images that were sure to send even the most drug-soaked hippy running for the hills, swearing off mind-altering substances forever.

  Grateful for the conversation coming from the kitchen, Maggie headed towards the welcoming distraction in the same manner she might walk past an old friend that she really couldn’t be bothered talking to; with her eyes fixed on a distant object, so as to ensure that the she did not inadvertently make the eye-contact that was crucial for such a reunion to take place. In this instance, it was the silhouette of a rather large backside that provided Maggie with the focal point necessary to survive the journey through the vertigo-inducing lounge room and into the relative safety of the kitchen. A closer look at the backside revealed that it had been mercilessly forced into an undersized pair of denim jeans, flared at the bottoms and overflowing at the top like a patty cake spilling over the top of its paper casing.

  My god, thought Maggie, does she not own a mirror?

  Being the eternal optimist that she was, Maggie told herself that after looking at that enormous arse, she had no cause for insecurity, no matter how inadequate Charlene and Jane had made her feel. Then, just as she contemplated how she was going to fit through the door, Pam squeezed past the protesting backside, almost showering her in biscuits and French onion dip. Rebalancing the plate in time to avoid a messy collision, Pam squealed with delight at Maggie’s sudden appearance.

  “Well, hello there Maggie, it’s so good to see you darling. Kiss, kiss.” Proceeding to kiss the air beside each of Maggie’s cheeks, Pam demanded Maggie stay put, and insisted that she would be back in a jiffy.

  Maggie was well acquainted with Barb Poole and Vicki Cotham, but did not know the owner of the big arse. According to Barb, her name was Vivian Auld and she was the wife of the new Senior Lecturer, Doug Auld. Maggie vaguely recalled Peter saying something about a new staff member and assumed it must have been Doug he was referring to.

  “This is Viv’s first recovery party,” informed Vicki, “she and her hubby moved to Sydney six months ago. They’re from Leeton, aren’t you Viv?”

  Vivian nodded enthusiastically, instantly reminding Maggie of the nodding dog that Stephen had won at the Easter show last year, and that still occupied a place of honour on the shelf above his bed. Maggie welcomed Vivian and excused herself so that she could get a glass of water. “Oh dear, don’t drink that,” Vicki said as though Maggie were contemplating drinking from the toilet, “drink this, it’ll work much better.” While Maggie wondered what was in the drink that made it work so well, the three women laughed as though Vicki had said something truly humorous. In that not so funny moment, Maggie was reminded, just as she was every year, why she never fitted in with many of the other wives. They were superficial and boring, that was why. Understanding the importance of being a member of the wives club nonetheless, Maggie took the offered glass good-naturedly. The last thing she wanted was everyone thinking she was a snob.

  “Vivian was just telling us about the time she saw Edna Everage at the Trivoli Theatre, weren’t you Viv?”

  Viv nodded.

  Vicki continued. “Viv was saying how he, I mean she – Edna Everage, that is – told the audience to…what was it again Viv…oh yes, she told the audience to hold their gladioli in the erect position for maximum gladi thrust.”

  Maggie tried her hardest to summon a genuine laugh, but settled for one that sounded somewhat contrived instead. Not that it made a difference; the others were too busy laughing hysterically to notice.

  “Oh dear me,” said Vicki, wiping the tears of laughter from her face, “Viv, you have a knack for making people laugh.”

  Downright hilarious, thought Maggie.

  “Viv was saying, Maggie, that despite coming across as vulgar and uncouth, Barry Humphries is really quite clever, weren’t you Viv?”

  The big-bummed, nodding dog dutifully nodded her head again. Maggie actually had difficulty imagining Vivian saying anything. From the time she had entered the kitchen, Vicki had done all her talking for her.

  Pam re-entered the kitchen with a blast of fragrance certain to finish the job the awful décor had started. “There you are, Maggie. It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen you darling, you look absolutely fabulous. Doesn’t she girls?”

  They all nodded in unison.

  Pam took Barb’s empty glass from her and refilled it from the same punch bowl that Vicki had filled Maggie’s cup from. “Here you go Barb, that’ll put a tiger in your tank.”

  They all laughed in unison.

  This time Maggie laughed too. Not because she found Pam’s comment particularly funny or witty, but because she suspected Barb was closer to the truth than she realised. The punch tasted like a blend of Pineapple Pearl and gasoline.

  “So Maggie, darling,” Pam said with such sharpness Maggie jumped and almost spilled her drink, “what have you been doing with yourself?” Pam patted Maggie’s forearm as though she were patting a dog. “Oh, before I forget, remind me to tell you all about Billy,” she said conspiratorially.

  Maggie nodded amiably. “All about Billy,” she repeated as though the comment had made perfect sense, when it made none whatsoever.

  Vicki, Barb and Vivian nodded in agreement.

  “He’s absolutely amazing, I’m sure you’ll just love him,” Pam added.

  “Wonderful,” echoed Vicki.

  Wondering who the hell Billy was, but not game to ask in case Pam told her, Maggie told the group of nodding dogs that she needed to speak with Peter about something and quickly turned to leave. If it hadn’t been for the need
to once again negotiate the roadblock in the doorway, she might have made her escape. As it was, Vivian stood as solid as a statue in the opening and made no attempt to move aside, once again confirming that she was unaware of her own bulk.

  “So Maggie, what are your plans for Christmas?” Barb asked, as though Maggie had made no mention of leaving their delightful company. “Don’t you usually go away for Christmas and the New Year?”

  Maggie was pleasantly surprised that Barb had remembered that she and Peter spent Christmas at Bellbird Cottage every year. She never really had her pegged for someone thoughtful. “That’s right; we try to spend a couple of weeks at our holiday place in Martinsville during the school break.”

  “Well, I guess I’d be wasting my time then – again – if I sent you an invitation to our New Year’s Eve party, wouldn’t I?”

  So that explained it. Maggie should have known that there was more to Barb’s interest than thoughtfulness. She was still dirty with Maggie and Peter for not coming to her New Year’s Eve party last year and the conversation was just a means of having another stab at her for it. “I guess so,” confirmed Maggie.

  “Well that’s a shame; you’ll miss a great party. It’s going to be fancy dress this year.”

  “Mmm,” agreed Maggie, “a real shame.”

  Pam squealed with delight at Barb’s mention of fancy dress. “You’ll never guess who Dave and I are going as?”

  Forgetting all about Maggie the traitor, Vicki and Barb responded on cue. “Who?”

  Pam was already shaking her head. “Mnh-mnh, not telling,” she taunted, “it’s going to be a surprise.”

  “Oh come on, tell us,” pleaded Vicki.

  “Pleeeease,” whined Barb.

  Seizing the opportunity to escape, Maggie mumbled something about Peter and squeezed past Vivian.

  “Hang on a minute Maggie,” Pam called, thereby putting a halt to Barb and Vicki’s pleas for costume disclosure, “I better come and say hello to that handsome hubby of yours. He’ll think I’m a terrible host if I don’t.”

  So much for escaping, thought Maggie.

  ***

  With Pam in tow, Maggie crossed the backyard and headed towards the large group of bodies gathered around the laundry tub. It didn’t take her long to spot Peter standing amongst the party of men, deep in discussion. He was a good couple of inches taller than everyone else. He looked up and smiled when he saw Maggie headed his way.

  “Hey, do you want to know who we’re going dressed as?” Pam stopped walking and waited for Maggie to do the same.

  Maggie couldn’t have cared less. “Sure,” she replied.

  “Well, Dave is going as Billy, and I am going as Big Pretzel.”

  There was that name again. Maggie was certain she should have known who he was, but she couldn’t think of a single Billy. “Who’s Billy?” she asked, with the full realisation that her curiosity could land her in trouble.

  Pam looked at Maggie incredulously. “Maggie you’re hilarious. I’m referring to Billy Graham of course.”

  Ah yes, of course. Billy Graham. How could she have forgotten Pam’s obsession with the divine celebrity? The last time Maggie had seen Pam she was off in La-La land over her encounter with the evangelist at the show ground. That had been months ago, and Maggie had written it off at the time as another of Pam’s outrageous foibles. She was somewhat surprised to hear that Pam was still going on about him after all this time, her fads usually tended to wane much sooner than that.

  “Dave looks just like him, don’t you think?”

  Maggie nodded. Of course she thought no such thing, but she was not about to engage in any conversation that was likely to set Pam off again. She recalled how easy Pam had stepped up onto the soapbox last time. There was no way Maggie could stomach a repeat performance of that.

  “And you’re going as Big Pretzel?” Maggie thought that Pam had selected a most unlikely pair to represent. Given Billy Graham’s lack of distinguishing features, he’d have to be one of the least appropriate people to dress up as. What was Pam going to do exactly, dress Dave in a business suit and rely on his questionable likeness to the man?

  Unaware of the skepticism in Maggie’s voice, Pam nodded. “I’m going to wear Charlie’s boots and have my hair done in the same style as Big Pretzel’s. I bet I’ll look just like her, don’t you think?”

  Maggie had to admit there were definite similarities between the two women. Pam was tall, big busted, and had long platinum-blonde hair. With the right outfit, Maggie thought that Pam would look just like the Go-Go dancer, only twenty years older, and a stone heavier. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the party,” Maggie said, and meant it.

  “Don’t tell the others, will you? I want it to be a surprise.”

  Maggie had no doubt that Pam would get her wish. Thankful that the topic was all but exhausted, Maggie reassured Pam that her secret was safe with her and started toward Peter once more.

  Looking extremely self-satisfied, Pam called a cheery hello to her son David, who was standing by the side of the house with Stephen and the others. As she did so, she stopped suddenly and grabbed Maggie by the arm, causing her to slosh drink down the front of her pantsuit. “Oh my God,” exclaimed Pam, oblivious to the mess she had made, “is that your Stephen? Hasn’t he grown up?”

  Taking Maggie by the hand, Pam led her towards the small gathering by the side of the house and further away from Peter. “Stephen darling, is that you? Don’t you look dashing?” Pam stuck her face towards him. “Come and give your Aunt Pam a kiss.”

  Looking somewhat embarrassed by their mother’s display, Charlene and David screwed up their faces. Jane observed the proceedings with a small, but stately, smirk on her face. Thinking she sounded more like a dirty old tart than the wife of his father’s colleague, Stephen reluctantly gave Pam a kiss on the cheek.

  “Come on Jane,” interrupted Charlene, “we better go wait out the front. Brandon will be here in a couple of minutes.”

  Pam reached across and gave her daughter a hug. “Have a great time darling. Be good.” Charlene excused herself and headed up the side of the house. Jane said goodbye to everyone and turned to follow her. As she got out of view of all except Stephen, she called back to him. “I’ll see you later,” she promised, and blew him a kiss.

  Chapter 23

  Wednesday, 19 December 1979

  I couldn’t believe I just said that. I just asked Tom to kiss me. Just like that. And not just any kiss either, a real pash. My heart pounded hard and I could feel my face going red. Luckily the theatre was dark, so Tom couldn’t see how much I’d embarrassed myself. I was just about to tell him not to worry and say that I was only joking, when he answered me.

  “If you want.”

  “Only if you want.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  We both looked around nervously to make sure no one was looking. Everyone appeared to be too interested in watching Admiral Kirk and the starship Enterprise trying to intercept an earth-bound alien spacecraft. I took one last look at Jim and Lisa, noting carefully how she had her head turned to the side and how they both seemed to move from side to side without taking their mouths off each other. Tom must have done the same, because as we came together we both turned our heads to the same side. We nearly cracked our heads together. How embarrassing that would have been. Luckily, I realised what was happening and quickly turned my head the other way.

  We closed our eyes and brought our mouths together. I was expecting him to be all wet and slobbery, but he wasn’t. His mouth was nice and soft and dry, and he tasted like popcorn. I could feel my heart pounding on the inside of my chest and wondered if Tom could feel it too. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to keep my eyes shut the whole time, but decided that it was probably best if I did.

  Wow! I thought, as we came up for air. We both sat back, not sure what to do next. I quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen us. Everyone still appeared to be watching the movie a
s intently as before. Tom picked up the popcorn and joined them. I sat back, smiling to myself. Dad would’ve said that I looked just like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  It was just as well he couldn’t see me now.

  ***

  If I thought it was hard to concentrate on the movie before, it was even harder now. I kept replaying the kiss over and over in my head, wondering if I had done everything right. I hope Tom didn’t think it was a dumb idea.

  “Hey Jenny,” Tom whispered, interrupting my daydream.

  “Yeah,” I asked nervously.

  “It feels better than it looks.”

  I grinned to myself. “Sure does.”

  I tried very hard to focus on the rest of the movie, mostly without success. I was sure Mum and Dad would ask me all about it when I got home and I didn’t want to have to make the whole thing up. Yet, instead of making a last ditch effort to work out the plot in case I was required to do just that, I spent the remaining time wondering if I’d get the chance to kiss Tom again. So much so that when V'Ger's true purpose was finally discovered and the galaxy was made safe again, my level of understanding with regard to all things Star Trek was no better than before I entered the cinema.

  At least I got to pash Tom.

  My excitement suddenly gave way to panic when I considered that maybe things would be different between us now. I didn’t want to stop being Tom’s best friend just because we kissed, and we were too young to go together. Besides, I was certain Mum wouldn’t let me have a boyfriend until I was in high school.

  Despite how nice – and grown up – it felt to kiss Tom, I was beginning to think it might have been a dumb idea after all.