Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  “Hi Mum, sorry to be calling so early, but I figured you’d be up already.”

  Maggie’s delight at hearing Michelle’s voice quickly turned to concern when she realised that it had only been a couple of days since she had last spoken with her. It was unlike Michelle to call twice in one week. Something must be wrong. “Is everything alright?” Maggie asked.

  Michelle jumped in quickly when she realised how her call must have seemed to Maggie. “Everything’s fine. I know it’s early, and I would’ve left it til later to call, but we need to get underway shortly.”

  “Why; where are you going?”

  “Paul and I are coming for a visit, that’s why I’m ringing. We’re catching the train down. We should be there around three fifteen. Can you pick us up from the station?”

  “When? Today?” Instead of being reassured that everything was okay, Maggie was now convinced that it wasn’t. “Why; what’s up?”

  Michelle feigned insult. “Well, if you prefer we didn’t come, we could always go and visit Paul’s parents instead. I’m sure they’d be delighted to see their son who they haven’t seen in almost two months.”

  “Sorry love, of course you’re welcome to come. I guess your short notice just threw me, that’s all. You’re usually far more organised than this.”

  Michelle laughed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that we only decided to come about half an hour ago. Paul was coming down tomorrow anyway. He has a job interview in the city, and I decided to come with him. That way you and Dad can meet him and we can spend some time with you.”

  “That’d be lovely. How long will you be staying?”

  “We’ll be coming back tomorrow. Paul’s interview is at two-thirty and we hope to catch the ten past five train back from Central.”

  “Oh well, one day’s better than nothing I suppose. You’re father and I have to work tomorrow, but you’re welcome to stay around until Paul finishes his interview.”

  Michelle hesitated before responding. “Um – do you remember me saying that Marjorie called?”

  “Well, of course I do. Has she been prank-calling you too?”

  “No, of course not – nothing like that. I just thought I should let you know that I’m having lunch with her tomorrow.”

  Despite Maggie having given her blessing, she was still surprised to hear that Michelle was going to meet Marjorie. Determined not to let it show she responded coolly. “Oh. No worries. I trust you won’t want to get up as early as us, so you can lock up when you leave.”

  “You can say that again. Anyway, gotta go, we’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “Okay love, bye.” Maggie hung up the phone and tiptoed back into the bedroom.

  “Who was that calling at this ungodly hour?” Peter asked, way too cheerfully for someone that had been woken up at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning, after a big night out. Maggie told Peter about her conversation with Michelle. “Hmm, I suppose that means we better ask Mum and Dad around. They’ll never forgive us if Michelle came to visit and we didn’t tell them about it.”

  Maggie groaned. It had only been a week since their last barbeque and she didn’t think she could face them again so soon. “Well, I won’t tell them if you don’t,” she offered.

  Peter grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on the bed next to him. “That’s what I love about you; you’re not beyond lying and cheating to get what you want.”

  Maggie giggled like a little girl. “Who are you calling a liar and a cheat? I’m not the one who hid in the house and pretended I wasn’t home when my parents came to visit.”

  “Oh, you’ll pay for that.” Peter tickled Maggie in the ribs. “How cruel you are, Maggie Thompson. You promised you’d never bring that up again.”

  Maggie pleaded with Peter to stop tickling her. “Stop, please!”

  “Say uncle,” he demanded.

  “I’ll say no such thing,” she giggled.

  “Then, I’ll tickle you til you wet yourself.”

  “Okay! I’ll say it!”

  “Well?” he tickled her some more, “I’m waiting.”

  Maggie held out for as long as she could before giving in to the tickling and called out “uncle”.

  “There, let that be a lesson to you.” Peter smacked her on her bottom with a gentle slap.

  Maggie lay next to Peter on top of the sheets, breathless and naked. Peter rolled her on to her side so that he could pull the sheets out from under her and throw them over her instead. As he did so, he moved in closer, wrapping her in his arms. “Mmm, that’s better, now you can’t get away.”

  Still breathless from the struggle, Maggie snuggled in closer. “That’s alright,” she assured him, “I have no intentions of ever getting away.”

  Peter brushed her hair away from her neck and gently kissed her exposed skin. “Have I told you yet today how much I love you?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact, you haven’t.”

  “Well,” he kissed her neck in between each word he spoke, “let this be the first.”

  Maggie reached behind her. “And what do we have here?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  Peter nudged her to indicate that she should turn around. “Why don’t I show you?” he offered.

  “Mmm, please do,” Maggie giggled.

  ***

  “You can ring them,” Maggie curled up on her side and snuggled under the sheets, “they’re your parents.”

  Peter groaned. He climbed out of bed and tucked the sheets in around Maggie’s back to avoid a draught. “I guess I deserve that.”

  “Yep,” she agreed, “you do.”

  Laughing, Peter slipped on a pair of boxer shorts and left the bedroom. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early?” he called from the kitchen.

  Maggie rolled over and looked at the clock. It was almost ten. Had they been at it that long, she wondered. Still feeling very relaxed from the activities of the past hour or so, she smiled. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of it that easy,” she called back. “You know they get up with the roosters.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll ring them.”

  Maggie contemplated staying in bed a bit longer, but decided against it. She still had a couple of loads of washing to do and, now that Michelle and Paul were coming to stay, she’d have to clear out the junk that she had let build up in Michelle’s room. She pulled on a dressing gown and walked towards the bathroom. She got as far as the hallway when she heard a car pull up. The front door was still closed, so she walked into the lounge room and pulled the curtains aside, just enough to see out. It was only Stephen being dropped off. Thank God for that, she thought. For a minute there she thought it might have been Peter's parents. They weren’t beyond dropping in unannounced.

  Stephen opened the door of the rundown old Ford. Maggie was surprised to see him lean across and kiss the driver before getting out. Closer inspection revealed that it was Jane driving the car, not Charlene or David as she had first assumed. Maggie smiled. So that was why he had wanted to stay overnight. Maggie would have happily bet that it had nothing to do with the game of Monopoly he and David had been playing and everything to do with Jane and Charlene’s return at two in the morning.

  By the time Maggie had straightened the curtain and returned to the hall, Stephen was coming through the front door. He started to say hello then realised that his dad was on the phone and whispered it instead.

  “Have a good night?” Maggie asked him quietly as he passed Peter in the hall.

  “Yep,” Stephen said noncommittally. “And you?”

  Maggie smiled and nodded. She ruffled his hair as he walked past her. Peter looked at Maggie and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I said I’d ring Roger, didn’t I?”

  “Who’s Dad talking to?” Stephen asked over his shoulder.

  “Your grandparents. Michelle’s coming to visit this afternoon, so he thought he should invite them around. Only, now it sounds like Roger and Mary are coming as well.”
Maggie sighed. “So much for a quiet Sunday afternoon with just the two of us.”

  Stephen stopped walking and turned around. “Michelle’s coming? Why, what’s up?”

  Maggie laughed. “That’s what I said. Apparently, nothing is up, her boyfriend’s got a job interview tomorrow and she’s going to have lunch with Marjorie.”

  Stephen looked surprised. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend and why would she want to see Marjorie.”

  “Well, she does have a boyfriend, his name is Paul, and I guess her reasons for seeing Marjorie are a matter for her.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, suppose.”

  Stephen started to walk away then stopped again. “Do you think it would be okay if I asked Jane to come over this afternoon?” he asked casually.

  Maggie smiled at her son. “By Jane, I assume you are referring to that very attractive young lady you introduced me to last night.”

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “Oh, and she’s the same very attractive young lady I just saw drop you off, I suppose?”

  Stephen blushed and looked uncomfortable.

  Maggie laughed. “Of course you can invite her. She’s very welcome.”

  “Thanks Mum.”

  “That’s alright. Besides, anyone that can make you smile and blush must be special.”

  Stephen looked embarrassed for the second time. “She is.” He agreed. “Well, at least, I think she is. I suppose only time will tell.”

  “That it will,” said Maggie, “that it will.”

  Stephen kissed his mum on the cheek before striding off into the kitchen to get something to eat. Maggie laughed to herself as she heard him say, “I better give her some time to get home before I ring her. I don’t want to sound too keen.”

  Chapter 28

  Thursday, 20 December 1979

  “Darren’s gone,” Mrs O’Connor said.

  “Gone where?” I asked.

  “He passed away Tuesday night.”

  “What?” Was I hearing her right?

  “He’s gone love,” she said again, this time with tears running down her face. “He never regained consciousness after those monsters beat him up.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What did she mean he never regained consciousness? “But, he was just having a check-up,” I said doubtfully.

  She looked at me as though she felt sorry for me.

  “But, he was just having a check-up,” I repeated like a moron. This time I could hear my voice faltering and knew straight away that what I said was wrong.

  She started to sob loudly. “I wish that were true.”

  I couldn’t stand it a second longer. I turned and fled. I could hear Tom calling me, but I didn’t wait for him. My vision blurred and my chest burned like hell, but I kept running. I couldn’t believe it. Shortie was dead. My parents lied to me. He wasn’t having a check-up at all. How dare they tell me that he was going to be alright, he’s not going to be alright; he’s dead!

  I ran all the way home without stopping to catch my breath. By the time I got home, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I barged into the house and ran into the dining room. Mum looked up from her crossword to see what was going on. I ran up to her and screamed in her face. “You’re a liar and I hate you!”

  She dropped her pen and looked at me, horrified.

  “You said Shortie was having a check-up and he wasn’t. He was in hospital unconscious and now he’s dead!”

  Kate and Tracy came out to see what all the yelling was about.

  “I suppose you knew about this too,” I bawled at them. “I suppose everyone knew, did they?”

  Mum’s face went white. “Oh God.”

  “Well?” I yelled. “I suppose everyone knew he wasn’t coming home, but me?” I stood there waiting for an answer. I could hardly see through my tears and I was having trouble breathing. My sobs were getting caught in my throat making it sound like I had the hiccups.

  Mum got up from the table and came around to put her arms around me. Kate and Tracy stood there, stunned. “Get away from me,” I screamed. “You’re a liar; I hate your guts!”

  I didn’t wait for a response, I just ran from the room. Mum was about to follow, but I heard Tracy tell her to leave me be. When I got to my room, I slammed the door shut behind me. I threw myself on the bed and cried. I looked at Hendrix; he couldn’t help me this time. He just sat and stared.

  My parents were a pack of liars. They had no right to lie to me like they did. No wonder they wouldn’t let me visit Shortie. Now he’s dead and I never even got to say goodbye and it’s all their fault.

  ***

  I’m not sure how long I cried for, but by the time I heard Mum knocking on my door, my head hurt and my eyes stung. “Jenny, can I come in?” she asked cautiously through the door.

  “Go away! I don’t ever want to talk to you again.” I knew that probably wasn’t the case, but I didn’t care. I definitely didn’t want to speak to her now. I heard her footsteps fading up the hall, but I knew she would eventually come back. At least for the time being she seemed willing to leave me alone.

  I lay on my bed trying to stop the flow of tears. I’d never known anyone who’d died before. Shortie was the first. I saw a dead dog once, but that was different. We found a white Labrador behind a log in the bush. Shortie and Tom were poking it with a stick. Ed and I were just about to join in when Shortie poked it too hard and its fur slid off. It was crawling with millions of maggots underneath. I didn’t mind seeing the dead dog, but the maggots were disgusting and made my skin crawl. Trevor was standing next to me, too chicken to touch it himself. When I called him a scaredy cat, he pushed me off the log and I almost landed on it. I managed to jump clear of it just in time, but I thought it was a slack thing to do and I didn’t speak to him for ages afterwards. I spent the rest of the day brushing imaginary maggots from my skin. Just like when people talk about nits, my head starts to itch straight away.

  A knock on the door interrupted my memories of the dead dog. I was just about to scream for whoever it was to go away when I heard Tom’s voice. “Jenny, it’s me, can I come in?”

  He’d been waiting outside for me the whole time. I opened the door and let him in. He came and sat next to me on the bed, making me feel better just for having him close. I was certain Tom understood how I felt, because no doubt he’d been lied to as well. We sat on the bed in silence, neither of us really knowing what to say. “I hate my parents,” I said finally. “They’re liars.”

  Tom just smiled at me carefully, but didn’t say anything.

  I tried once again to start a conversation. “What do you think will happen to Shortie now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what will happen to him now? Will he go straight to Heaven or does he have to wait until after the funeral?”

  “I don’t know, I suppose he has to wait until after the funeral.”

  “So what will he do in the meantime, where will he go?” The idea of Shortie just hanging around waiting for his own funeral struck me as odd. I realised I had no clue about what happened to someone when they died.

  Tom considered my question carefully. “Come to think of it, maybe he doesn’t have to wait. Mr Richards said that when you die only your soul goes to Heaven, not your body, so I don’t see why he should have to wait for the funeral.”

  It seemed logical to me. “So, how long does it take to get there?”

  “Get where?”

  “Heaven, where do you think?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Well, you’re the Catholic, not me.”

  Tom looked hurt. Seeing the look on his face made me feel bad. I shouldn’t be mean to Tom, he didn’t do anything.

  I tried to be more cheerful. “Maybe your mum will know?” Anyone who went to Church as often as she did was bound to know for sure.

  Tom looked doubtful. “Why don’t we ask her?”

  “She’s not home yet, I’ll ask her tonight.”


  Mum knocked on my door again. This time she was not taking get lost for an answer. She came into my room and stood facing us on the bed. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t going to leave. Maybe if I ignored her long enough, she’d eventually go away. “I think it’s time for Tom to go home now,” she said. “He can come back tomorrow and play.”

  I wondered how long I’d get away with being angry and not talking to her. Not very long, by the looks of it. She had her no nonsense voice on, which really meant that she wasn’t going to let me throw another tantrum or be rude a second longer. It certainly had the desired effect on Tom, he was up and out before I could say anything. I was determined not to crack so easily. I figured if I wasn’t going to get away with another tantrum, then, the least I could do was not look at her. That way she’d know I was still angry with her, which I was.

  She sat down on the bed beside me. Despite me not looking up, I could feel her watching me. At first she just sat there not saying anything, but after a minute or two, she spoke. “I know you’re angry with me at the moment, but in time you’ll understand why we didn’t tell you the truth.”

  I doubted she was right, but I was not about to break my silence to say so.

  “We had no idea that he wasn’t coming home. The doctors said that he’d sustained a heavy blow to the head, but that his signs were good and that he should wake up.”

  I sat staring at the wall determined to not say a word.

  “Jenny, please don’t be angry. Your dad and me just want what’s best for you,” she pleaded.

  I felt like correcting her and saying, don’t you mean, Dad and I, but I didn’t, I sat there tight-lipped instead.

  It seemed Mum was just as determined to get me to talk as I was not to. “Sometimes parents don’t tell the whole truth because they don’t want to hurt those they love,” she explained.

  “That doesn’t make sense. If they don’t want to hurt those they love, then they should tell the truth, not lie.” Damn, I wasn’t meaning to say that out loud.

  “Would it help if I said sorry?” she asked hopefully.

  I couldn’t stand it. She was being so nice and I really wanted to be nasty back, but I couldn’t. I started to cry again. I didn’t know what else to do. She moved closer and put her arm around me while I sat there blubbering like a baby.

  “Did I tell you that I lost a friend once, just before you were born?”