I shook my head.
“We’d been best friends since high school and her name was Molly. She was driving home from the hospital where she worked, and was going around the corner near the bridge at Morisset. A car came around the corner too fast and ran into her. It didn’t do too much damage, but it pushed her car off the road and into a ditch, and she hit her head.”
I looked at her expectantly. “And?”
She held her hands out, palms up and shrugged. “And she died, just like that. The doctors said it was a freak accident and that she was just unlucky.”
I’d say she was unlucky.
“The point is,” she continued, “I know how you feel. At the moment it hurts a lot, but after a while, it’s not so bad. Life goes on and things eventually return to normal.”
I couldn’t imagine things returning to normal, ever. “How long does it take?”
“It’s hard to know. I imagine that you’ll feel sad for a while, but then you’ll start to feel better. You’ll see. I bet you’re feeling better by the time your party starts.”
What! Was she kidding? There was no way I was going to have a party now, no way in hell. “I’m not having a party,” I said, sounding like a spoiled brat and actually feeling good about it.
“Of course you are, don’t be silly.”
“I am not!”
“Come on Jenny, you’re just being childish, of course you’re having a party. You’ve sent out the invitations and everyone’s already said they’re coming.”
She didn’t appear to be listening at all, which made me angry all over again. “Firstly,” I said, “I’m allowed to be childish, I’m eleven. Secondly, I am not having a party. And thirdly, I’ll call everyone and tell them it’s cancelled. So there.” I moved away so that she could no longer have her arm around me.
“Don’t you take that tone with me young lady.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you’re upset, so I’ll forgive you this time.”
That was big of her.
“But,” she said pointing her finger at me, “you will stop behaving like a spoilt brat, and you will have your party on Saturday, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.” She got up and stormed out.
Boy, parents are annoying sometimes. They think that just because they’re the boss they can make you do things you don’t want to do. Well, we’ll see about that. She might be able to make me have a party, but she can’t force me to have a good time. I’ll be so miserable and sulky, she’ll wish she didn’t spend her precious money.
Chapter 29
Sunday, 1 December 1968
Peter gave Maggie a kiss on the check. “See you shortly.”
“Michelle said she’d be waiting out the front of the station for you so you won’t need to find a park.”
“No worries, I’m sure I’ll find her.” Peter walked towards the front door, almost colliding with Stephen who barged through his bedroom door at the same time.
“Whoa,” said Peter, “what’s the hurry?”
Stephen was almost level with the kitchen before he answered. “Sorry, no hurry, I’m just looking for something, that’s all.”
“Well, I’d love to stay and help you look, but I gotta go and get Michelle.”
Stephen ignored his dad’s comments. “Mum!” he called through the back door to where Maggie was taking washing off the line, “do you know where my good jeans are?”
“Which ones?”
“I’ve only got one good pair. You know, the Amco ones. I wore them the other night to the concert and I haven’t seen them since.”
“Maybe Joe took them.” Maggie suggested.
At the mention of Joe’s name Stephen rolled his eyes and huffed with impatience.
Maggie laughed at his response. Joe Fanatomy was a non-existent character that got blamed for everything that went missing or was mysteriously broken. His origins stemmed back to Maggie’s college days when someone from one of the previous years had given Joe’s name to Mr Turner when he had asked for those absent. For months, the students continued the ruse by covering for Joe whenever he was called upon to perform a task. Rumour had it that it had been Ted Crago who had initially volunteered the fictitious name, but Maggie never knew for sure. What she did know though, was that the legend of Joe Fanatomy – significantly aided by the scratchings of “Joe was here” on many a desktop – lived on long after Ted and his classmates were gone.
Ever since Maggie had told the story to the young and impressionable Stephen, Joe had been a pseudo member of their family. In fact, it was Stephen who had initially started to suggest that Joe was responsible for messing his room and misplacing his things. Now, all these years later, he no longer found the suggestion amusing.
“I’m only kidding, they’re here. I’ve just taken them off the line.” Maggie dug into the washing basket and pulled out the jeans in question. “Here; catch,” she tossed them to Stephen who managed to open the door just in time to grab them and prevent them from falling onto the veranda.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, before going back inside to get changed.
Maggie laughed. She couldn’t remember a time he had been so particular about what he wore. He had already sorted through the ironing basket in Michelle’s room to find his new tee-shirt. Now, he was having kittens over his best jeans. And, if that wasn’t enough, he had insisted on having a shower in the middle of the day, something Maggie definitely could not recall ever happening before. She had no doubt that Jane was responsible for his new fashion sense and improved personal hygiene. With a bit of luck, she might even be able to get it to last more than a day or so.
Picking up the basket of clothes, Maggie headed inside. She almost took the washing into Michelle’s room where it would sit until she found the time to sort it and put it away, but checked herself just in time. She had already spent over an hour cleaning the junk out of the room in preparation for Michelle’s visit, so she took the basket into her and Peter’s room and put it in the corner between the dressing table and the window. No one was likely to venture into their room, so she was happy to leave it there for the time being. She had too many things to do before everyone arrived to worry about sorting washing.
Speaking of too many things to do, Maggie remembered she had forgotten to take the sausages out of the freezer. She swore to herself for being so forgetful and raced into the kitchen to grab them before she forgot again. She still had a couple of hours before they would be cooking the barbeque, so she figured with the day being as warm as it was, they would probably still defrost in time. Besides, there were steaks and rissoles in the fridge. They’d just have to make do with them if the sausages weren’t ready in time.
Maggie mentally checked off the list of things she had to do. The coleslaw was done, as was the potato salad. Faye was bringing lemon meringue pie and fruit salad for desert and Mary was bringing a tossed salad. Damn! Maggie remembered she had forgotten to tell Peter to get the ice. Maggie called to Stephen from the kitchen.
“Yeah, what do you want?” he replied.
Since Maggie was the one who wanted Stephen to do her a favour, she decided that she had best go to him instead of making him come to her. She opened his bedroom door and peered in. “Can I get you to go...” Maggie stopped mid-sentence. The room looked different somehow, but she couldn’t work out how. Then it occurred to her, it was tidy. The usual clutter and mess was gone. Even the bed had been made and the clothes that permanently resided on the floor and under the bed were nowhere to be seen. “Wow, looks like the Queen’s coming to stay.”
Stephen looked sheepish. “I thought it was about time I cleaned up, it looked like a bomb hit it.”
Maggie laughed. “Sure, but I’ve been telling you that for years and it has never made an ounce of difference before. Do you think Jane might like to move in?”
“Mum! Do you mind? It has nothing to do with Jane.”
“Sure thing Stevie-boy, nothing to do with Jane, huh?”
&nb
sp; Stephen was quick to change the subject. “What did you want me to do?”
Maggie was still in shock from the clean room. “Are you sure aliens haven’t abducted my son and left me with you instead?”
“Mum!”
“Sorry, I’m just a bit concerned about your health that’s all.”
Before Stephen could protest again, Maggie composed herself and put on her serious face. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing now.”
Stephen looked relieved.
“I was hoping you could do me a favour and go and get some ice. I forgot to ask your dad to get it while he was out.”
“But Jane will be here soon.”
“That’s okay, I won’t eat her.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just thought she might be a bit uncomfortable if she turns up and I’m not here.”
“She’ll be fine. She didn’t strike me as the helpless type. Besides, I’ll put her to work until you get back. I have plenty of ironing she can do.”
Stephen looked horrified. “You can’t get her to do your ironing!”
Maggie laughed, “Oh, you’re such a duffer. Of course I’m not going to make her work. I’ll be very nice to her until you get back.”
Stephen looked at his mother with suspicion. “And when I get back?”
“When you get back, what?”
“Will you still be nice to her then?”
“Of course I will, I promise. Anyway, if you get your arse into gear and get a move on, you’ll be back before she arrives.”
“Okay, where are your keys?”
Maggie handed Stephen the car keys. “I’ll just go and see if I can find the camera,” she told him. “If I don’t take a photo of your room, no one will ever believe me when I tell them about the time you cleaned it up.”
“Mum! Do you mind?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll let up. Now go and get me some ice. Come on, quick smart!” Maggie handed Stephen some coins and chased him out the door with the flick of a tea towel.
***
A knock on the door startled Maggie. She had been busy looking out the kitchen window at the neighbour’s dog. It was furiously digging a hole to bury the bone that sat beside him. Maggie was convinced the dog was retarded. She had never seen such a ridiculous animal. She knew with the certainty of someone that had witnessed the dog’s behaviour many times before that no sooner would Elvis bury the bone than he would furiously dig it up again only to repeat the exercise until he had performed each task four times. And only then would he leave the bone to settle. Maggie had already seen him bury the same bone once, which meant that apart from the burial that was taking place in front of her, Elvis would repeat the task twice more before being satisfied.
According to Jan and Bill, Elvis’ owners, he always buried the bone four times. Never three or five, always four. And never in the same hole twice. As a consequence it looked like a family of dissatisfied moles lived next door. The entire yard was covered with little brown piles of dirt.
Maggie left Elvis to his digging and went to answer the door. It was hard to see who it was through the screen door with the light shining in, but Maggie correctly guessed it was Jane. It was too early for the others and the knocking eliminated Peter from the likely list of callers.
“Hi, Mrs Thompson. Is Stephen here?”
Maggie opened the front door and let Jane in. “Please, call me Maggie.”
“Oops, sorry. You did tell me that last night, but I forgot.”
Maggie smiled at the girl that appeared to have captured her son’s heart. “That’s okay, come in. Stephen’s just ducked out to get some ice, he won’t be long.”
“Oh, okay then, thanks.”
Maggie led Jane into the kitchen and offered her a cup of tea. Jane declined, but accepted a glass of cold cordial instead. “You have a very nice house,” she told Maggie.
“Thanks. You wouldn’t have said so if you had seen it this morning. It was a mess. I’ve spent most of the day cleaning up.”
Jane laughed at Maggie’s honesty.
“In fact,” added Maggie, “I’m not the only one who’s been cleaning.”
Jane looked confused.
“It seems that you have managed to win the heart of a certain Mr Thompson.”
“Oh,” Jane laughed. “That’s only fair, a certain Mr Thompson has won my heart also.”
Maggie smiled. She was pleased that Jane felt the same way about Stephen as he felt about her. Maggie couldn’t help but notice how besotted Stephen had become with her in such a short time and hoped that he was not setting himself up for pain. Now, after seeing Jane’s face light up at the mention of Stephen’s name, she decided she had been worrying about nothing.
“So, asked Maggie, “what’s on the cards now that you’ve finished your degree?”
“Well, I’ve applied for a number of graduate engineering jobs, but haven’t heard anything yet. Hopefully, I’ll be successful with one of those, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“Why is that?” Maggie asked.
“Companies don’t usually hire female engineers. It seems to be a man’s job and it’s very difficult to break through.”
“I do hope you’re mistaken about that. Our daughter is studying to be an engineer. I’d hate to think all her hard work has been for nothing.”
“Yeah, Stephen told me all about Michelle. I’m looking forward to meeting her. It’s not often you meet other women that you have so much in common with.”
What a nice thing to say, thought Maggie. She was convinced that Michelle and Jane would hit it off well. They both appeared to be intelligent, strong-willed young ladies. On top of that, Jane was closer to Michelle’s age than Stephen’s.
The sound of the front door slamming interrupted Maggie and Jane’s conversation. “Sounds like Stephen’s home,” Maggie said, getting up from the table and relieving him of the bag of ice he carried. The pair of them walked back into the kitchen together where Maggie emptied the ice into the Esky.
Stephen looked at Jane awkwardly. “Hi. Feeling better?”
“Yeah, much better thanks. It’s amazing what a cool shower does for one’s wellbeing.”
“How was the ball, by the way?” Maggie asked Jane.
“It was good. Lots of people, great music, plenty to eat and drink; everything you could hope for, I guess.”
“Except for a handsome chaperone.” Stephen appeared to have regained his composure in record time.
Jane laughed. “Except for a handsome chaperone,” she agreed.
“Not that you need a chaperone, mind you.” Stephen added.
“Speaking of chaperones, do you want to come with me on Wednesday night to the pyjama ball?” Jane asked Stephen.
Stephen’s face lit up. “Sure.” He looked at Maggie hopefully. “Is that okay with you?”
Maggie smiled at him. “Of course it’s okay. You might have to borrow your dad’s suit though, I’m sure you don’t want to embarrass Jane by looking like nobody owns you.”
Jane interrupted. “Oh, no, that’s alright, he doesn’t need a suit. It’s a pyjama ball. He only needs a pair of pyjamas.”
Maggie laughed. “Seriously, I must be getting old. In my day you got dolled up to the nines to go to a ball.”
“Well, he needs a tie too, if that helps satisfy your need for formality.”
“Oh, I see,” Maggie picked up on Jane’s intended humour, “I shan’t worry about it not being formal enough then. All he needs to do is add a tie and shazam, it’s formal.”
“And gloves for the ladies,” Jane added.
They all laughed together at the absurdity of a formal pyjama ball.
“Hello, anyone home!”
Maggie jumped up at the sound of Michelle’s voice. “Come in love, it’s great to see you.” Maggie gave Michelle a quick hug.
“Just let me put this bag down.” Michelle saw Stephen coming towards her and handed him her bag. “Here you go Steve, give your big sister a hand, why don’t yo
u.”
Stephen leaned over and gave Michelle a kiss on the cheek, taking her bag from her as he did so. A tall, broad-shouldered man followed Michelle in, carrying a bag of his own. “Hi, I’m Paul,” he reached out his hand to Maggie, who ignored it and gave him a kiss on the cheek instead.
“Well, hello there Paul, I’m Maggie. It’s nice to meet you.”
Maggie gave Michelle a sly nod to let her know that she approved of her choice of men. Paul was at least six foot tall, with sandy blond hair, cut short and worn tidy, tanned skin and green eyes. He looked like a well-presented version of the surfie boys Maggie often saw hanging around town. His short sleeved shirt showed that he had a well-toned and muscled body to complement his pleasant features. Maggie could certainly see why Michelle found him attractive.
Michelle and Paul offloaded their bags. Then, while Paul went to the toilet, Michelle joined the others in the kitchen. Maggie looked around to see where Peter had got to. She hadn’t seen him come in. Just as she was about to set off in search of him, Michelle informed her that he was putting water in his radiator.
“I thought he was getting a new car?” Michelle asked Maggie.
“He is. It’s not here yet.”
“What’s he getting?”
Maggie looked at Michelle as though she had said something odd. “I’ll give you one guess.”
Michelle nodded. She didn’t need one guess to know what her father was getting. He hadn’t shut up about the damn car since its release. “Paul wants a Thunderbird, don’t you hun?”
Paul, coming in on the tail end of the conversation, nodded pleasantly at Michelle’s comment. “I can dream,” was all he said.
Maggie was just finishing the introductions when Peter came up the hall. “I’ll have to get that radiator looked at before I hand her over to you, babe,” he said, before turning at the end of the hall and going in the bathroom to wash his hands.
Maggie was giving the old Morris Minor to Stephen and she was getting Peter's EK Holden. Apart from the current problem with the radiator, the car had not missed a beat in the seven years they had owned it.
Still drying his hands on the hand towel, Peter walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. “Looks like we’ve just got time to…” he stopped dead when he spotted Jane sitting at the dining table.
Summer Page 22
