After She Left

by Penelope Hanley

  Alfred nodded slowly. ‘Waterford crystal. Sentimental value for me. Like the whole house.’ He turned to Keira and said, ‘My parents were very good to me. They left me this house.’ He held up his glass as if toasting to Heaven and sipped from it. ‘For which I am eternally grateful.’

  Deirdre was grateful she’d brought bread and butter. She made herself a tomato and cheese sandwich with the ingredients at hand. The burgundy was smooth and rich.

  ‘My parents,’ said Alfred, turning to Keira, ‘wanted me to be a doctor. I studied at Sydney University. But I dropped out of medicine in first year and enrolled in history. However, the way it was taught was wrong: English history, nothing Australian except in relation to the Mother Country. I persevered until final year exams and then had a small breakdown and didn’t sit for them.’ He ate some cheese and sipped wine. ‘Yes, a sorry disappointment to my parents, I was.’

  Seamus topped up Alfred’s glass. ‘But you did what you wanted to do, an’ that’s the way to go; we’re not here to fulfill others’ expectations, isn’t that so?’

  Alfred shrugged. ‘That’s right, I suppose.’

  He lapsed into silence while everyone chewed and chomped on the peculiar meal. The house was so quiet that, between the crunching of carrots, they could hear the grandfather clock ticking.

  ‘That clock,’ said Alfred, following Keira’s gaze, ‘was my grandfather’s.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Keira, ‘it looks as if it came with the First Fleet. Not that I’m suggesting you’re that old, Alfred!’

  ‘It is indeed very old,’ he said. ‘My grandfather didn’t buy it new. So you never know!’

  Deirdre asked, ‘Have you seen Olivia lately, Alfred?’

  Alfred’s parchment skin seemed suddenly illuminated from within. ‘This morning! I went over there and she cooked breakfast: omelette, bacon, French toast – the works. Linen tablecloth and a big vase of flowers on the table, too!’ He laughed, and started coughing. ‘It was a work of art.’

  ‘To some people, cooking is an art. I’m not so good at it,’ said Deirdre.

  ‘Me, neither,’ said Alfred, and they all laughed.

  ‘I forget time when I’m painting,’ said Deirdre, ‘I just grab something quick if I’m hungry, a banana sandwich or some apples and cheese, then get on with the important things.’

  ‘The French believe the important things are food and cooking,’ said Seamus.

  ‘I don’t have time to be like the French,’ said Deirdre, ‘but Olivia does. She’s very organised.’

  ‘The French have time for both art and food,’ said Alfred.

  ‘And love,’ said Keira.

  ‘Ah, I always had time for love,’ said Deirdre.

  Alfred looked mournful and reached for a cigarette. Deirdre was horrified.

  ‘Alfred, surely you don’t believe in intercourse smoking,’ she said.

  This elicited a guffaw from Seamus. Alfred smiled faintly and lit up.

  Keira said, ‘Mum’s trying to give up. She smokes a lot, but she doesn’t smoke between courses. Mum reckons the most important thing is love, but she was only talking about family.’

  ‘Maureen’s right,’ said Seamus, ‘it’s not romantic love that makes the world go round, it’s the love for children and family, that self-sacrificing love. You only realise that when you’re older.’

  ‘Ah, you realise a lot of things when you’re older,’ said Deirdre, reaching for the burgundy and topping up her glass. ‘Now Alfred, after lunch, don’t forget those notebooks for Keira.’

  ‘I won’t. They’re right here,’ said Alfred, getting up and taking a couple of large exercise books from the top of a pile on a chair. He put them beside Keira.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll read them as soon as I can.’

  38

  MAUREEN

  August 1973

  They were all in the kitchen – Maureen, Jimmy, Nessie, Steve and Melanie – when Keira came home and joined them.

  ‘Too many cooks,’ Mel said, shooing them all out except Steve.

  Keira asked what they’d been doing all day as they settled round the table in the adjoining dining room.

  ‘Fixing some things around the house,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘That’s the landlord’s job,’ said Keira.

  ‘Does he do it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s okay, then. Did you notice Mum’s cleaned the house from top to bottom?’

  ‘Yeah, fantastic – thank you!’

  ‘And I looked through your photos, Keira,’ said Maureen. ‘There are some lovely ones of Alan. I hadn’t realised how serious it was until Saturday.’

  ‘Maybe I hadn’t, either. But he was the first real grown-up I’ve ever dated.’ Her voice was wistful. ‘He knows so much and it felt so right with him. I felt as if he took my hand and pulled me up to a higher plane – one of classical music, architecture, film, politics …’

  Maureen appraised Keira for a moment. ‘But it was more than a type of teacher/student exchange, wasn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Mmmmmm. It was the way he smells.’

  Jimmy burst out laughing and Maureen joined him. Keira gave a rueful laugh.

  ‘Mum,’ said Keira, ‘you know I’m on the pill, don’t you?’

  Maureen fished a cigarette out of her pack and lit it. ‘Better than having an illegitimate baby.’ Steve dashed in with fistfuls of cutlery and set the table while Maureen continued: ‘Especially with a man who wants to have his cake and eat it, too.’

  ‘Ah, a man after my own heart,’ said Steve, heading back to the kitchen where they heard the loud snap of a tea-towel on his jeans. ‘Ow! Just kidding, Mel!’ said Steve and then yelled out, ‘Red or white wine, people, any preferences?’

  ‘I drink anything,’ called Jimmy.

  ‘Surprise us,’ said Maureen.

  Keira continued. ‘Alan and I had agreed that jealousy’s an old-fashioned concept of bourgeois possessiveness.’

  ‘But when it comes to love, the heart knows what it wants, and it generally doesn’t want to share what it wants with someone else,’ said Maureen.

  ‘The heart has its reasons that reason cannot know,’ said Steve, dashing in to put salt and pepper shakers on the table. ‘Pascal said that.’

  Mel came in with a dish of grated parmesan. She looked at Keira, enthusiasm sparkling in her blue eyes. ‘There’s an article in Cleo about how to get over a breakup. It says you should buy a new dress, put on makeup and go out with anyone who asks, in fact, ask your exes out – anyone good-looking – if it’s probable that you’ll see your ex – your current ex.’

  ‘Yeah, Keir – never forget: there are plenty of fish and chips in the sea!’ yelled Steve from the kitchen.

  Nessie carried in a tray with six glasses on it and said, ‘No, Keir, you should throw yourself into your work – nothing better for the dark night of the soul.’

  ‘Don’t elevate my pain to a philosophical crisis,’ said Keira. ‘I’m only going through a dark night of the heart.’ She sniffed an exaggerated theatrical sniff.

  ‘When jealousy hits someone who thought that jealousy was an outmoded bourgeois convention, that’s a serious philosophical blow,’ said Nessie.

  ‘It’s not so much jealousy, but that he was dishonest for so long.’

  ‘How long?’ asked Steve, sitting down next to Maureen with a bottle of claret and a corkscrew.

  ‘I don’t know. I was too angry to stick around and find out.’

  ‘Anger is therapeutic. It brings up repressed material.’ Steve extracted the cork with a loud Thock! ‘This is what you need.’ He sloshed the red liquid into a glass and thrust it towards Keira, who took it. ‘And as soon as you feel up to it,’ continued Steve, ‘go and see lots of comedies.’

  Keira burst into sobs.

  *

  The next day Maureen was in the kitchen, wearing one of the boys’ old navy wool Christian Brothers school jumpers over a white blouse, with a skirt and high-heels
, a red tea-towel tucked into her skirt waistband. Jimmy was peeling spuds while Maureen rubbed rosemary on a leg of lamb.

  Keira walked in and said, ‘What can I do?’

  ‘You can sit down after your hard day’s work.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve had a hard day’s work, too,’ said Jimmy.

  Maureen ignored this. ‘Jimmy, put those peels in the rubbish bin,’ she said.

  Nessie and Steve arrived. Steve was wearing a dark blue fine corduroy shirt. It was falling out of his jeans at the back, making a little scalloped ruffle.

  ‘Your petticoat’s hanging,’ said Nessie, tugging it.

  He smacked her hand and pulled the whole tail out.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ said Nessie.

  ‘I will since I am actually at home.’ He checked the freezer. ‘We need ice cream.’

  ‘And more apple juice,’ said Keira.

  ‘We always get that – what about orange juice instead?’ said Steve.

  ‘Apple juice has half the calories of orange juice.’

  ‘Oooohhhh!’ said Steve, with contemptuous irony.

  ‘Where’s Mel? Will she be here for dinner?’ asked Maureen.

  ‘Nope. We don’t live in each other’s pockets,’ said Steve. ‘She’ll be coming over later,’ he added with a grin.

  ‘Can you get some Vogel’s bread too?’ said Nessie.

  Steve wrote the items on the phone pad. Maureen took the list from him, peered at his illegible scrawl and observed, ‘Well qualified for the medical profession already, in one respect.’ She scribbled at the bottom and gave it back.

  ‘Benson and Hedges,’ he read out. ‘They’re not good for you, you know.’

  Maureen said nothing but reached her manicured fingers across to put a five-dollar note in the pocket of his blue cord shirt.

  ‘Look, I’ll go,’ said Keira, ‘she’s my mother.’

  ‘She’s the cat’s mother,’ said Maureen and Steve simultaneously. Butch was winding his way through Steve’s legs in figures of eight and whining.

  ‘I’ll go,’ repeated Steve. ‘Can someone feed Butch?’

  Nessie tipped some dry food into the cat bowl and disappeared into her room. Butch unenthusiastically crunched on it.

  ‘So what else did you do today?’ Keira asked Jimmy.

  ‘I saw the solicitor after work and he’s gonna take me on,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘It’s a relief to know he’s in good hands,’ said Maureen. ‘Now, here’s an extraordinary thing – I went home to get my marriage certificate. And I couldn’t find it! I can’t understand it: I file all my documents in one place and it wasn’t there.’

  She glanced at Keira, who seemed to be blushing for some reason, threw up her hands and said, ‘It’s a complete mystery. But the irony didn’t escape me: you only need your marriage certificate when you’re contemplating divorce.’

  Jimmy and Keira looked at each other then stared back at their mother.

  ‘Divorce?’

  ‘I’ve been too busy to think about it lately. I’ve been thinking more about my children’s problems.’ She peered at Jimmy, who looked sheepish. ‘That cat!’ she said suddenly. ‘Already back in the kitchen. Get out of here, Butch! Shoo!’

  Butch looked sullenly up at Maureen with his big yellowish eyes, his long, smoky fur smouldering with moody resentment. He opened his pink mouth in a silent miaow.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Maureen, ‘I’m so weak with hunger I don’t have the energy to make a noise. Get out of here, you pathetic animal; you’ve been fed.’

  Butch slunk past Maureen and Keira and sauntered to Jimmy, rubbing his large, resentful body against Jimmy’s leg.

  *

  The meal was a delicious success. Maureen was gratified to see that Keira had recovered her appetite.

  ‘How long did you say you’d be staying, Maureen?’ Steve asked rhetorically, tucking in to the tender, rosemary-scented meat.

  Afterwards Maureen insisted on washing up. Jimmy and Steve were clowning around with their tea-towels, rolling the ends into points and flicking them at each other, yelling ‘Ouch!’ and ‘Oy!’ and so on.

  Maureen dashed round them to get more dirty dishes. Butch silently appeared like a dark grey storm cloud covering the sun. Maureen tripped over him and went over, falling onto the lino with a cry.

  ‘Mum!’ Jimmy and Keira yelled, and crouched beside her.

  Steve acted quickly, hoisting Maureen up and supporting her upper back and behind her knees with his arms. Maureen moaned with pain.

  Steve settled Maureen on the couch, piled up the cushions at the end and carefully put her injured foot on them. ‘Nessie, get some of that brandy we got to make Brandy Alexanders.’ He was in doctor mode, yelling orders. ‘Keira, wrap some ice cubes in a tea-towel.’

  Nessie brought the bottle and a glass and he unscrewed the cap and poured a hefty amount in. ‘Drink this.’

  When Keira returned with the ice, some colour had come back into Maureen’s face. Steve was examining her ankle. ‘It’s swelling already,’ he said. ‘Does this hurt?’

  She gasped a ‘Yes.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ve injured the ligament – sprained your ankle. Probably not fractured. I’ll give you some painkillers. Keep it elevated. We’ll keep up the icepacks and I’ll put a compression bandage on it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She squeezed his hand and looked round at Nessie and Keira. ‘This is so ironic.’

  ‘Ironic?’ said Steve.

  ‘I made the roast to compensate for being a burden and now I’m more of a burden than ever!’

  Steve said, ‘Oh yeah, you’ve been a crushing burden, cleaning the house and making roasts!’ He topped up her brandy, wound a bandage round her foot, went to his room and came out rolling a joint.

  ‘Muscle relaxant, Maureen. I promise you it’s harmless.’ He lit it, took a drag and offered it to her. ‘Doctor’s orders.’

  They all burst out laughing. Maureen took it, put it between her lips and inhaled deeply. Keira met Jimmy’s glance. Now they’d seen everything.

  Jimmy and Keira went back to the kitchen to continue the washing up. Maureen heard them giggling.

  Steve and Maureen shared the joint, patient and doctor feeling very relaxed. When Jimmy and Keira came out Steve went to his room. Jimmy said, ‘I’m off now.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Visiting Meg. She doesn’t live far from here. I might stay over – if I’m lucky.’

  ‘Bye, darling,’ said Maureen. She had the Sydney Morning Herald on her knee and was lying back with relaxed muscles. Keira poured them both a glass of wine and brought a chair over close to Maureen. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Mmmm?’ She looked up at Keira. ‘Probably shouldn’t have any more, but why not?’

  They clinked glasses and Keira took a deep breath. ‘You know how Seamus Mike is coming tomorrow?’

  ‘Mmmmmm?’ She felt as if anything Keira said would be just lovely.

  ‘He won’t be alone. He’s bringing … bringing …’ Keira gulped some wine. ‘He’s bringing Deirdre.’ Maureen couldn’t muster any words. Keira added lamely, ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

  Maureen felt the blood drain out of her face. ‘Was that what you were doing on Sunday? Were you with her?’

  ‘Seamus introduced us. It was a surprise.’

  Maureen reached for the Benson and Hedges. ‘I’ll bet it was.’

  Fumbling with the package with shaking hands, she put a cigarette between her lips. Keira struck a match and lit it for her. Maureen gulped some wine.

  ‘She told me all sorts of things about her and Owen’s travels in Europe and India and her old life in Ireland. She talked about art – it was fascinating. She talked about learning yoga and meditation. I asked her about when she threw the rocks at the rent-collectors and she told me all about it.’

  Maureen nodded. ‘Deirdre can spin a yarn, I’ve never denied that.’

  ‘She’s dying to see y
ou.’

  Maureen gulped her wine and felt light-headed. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘she’ll have a captive audience.’

  Keira said, ‘I might do a bit more work on the essay and get ready for bed.’

  In the hall she passed Steve, who had lit another joint. ‘Just going to check on the patient,’ he said.

  39

  KEIRA

  August 1973

  Later that night Keira was coming out of the bathroom, ready for bed, when she saw Melanie heading towards the kitchen. She must have slipped in through the back door.

  For some reason Keira didn’t call out ‘Hi,’ but followed until she nearly bumped into her, standing stock-still at the doorway of the living room. Keira froze behind her with uncomprehending shock at the scene before them.

  Steve was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning over Maureen, kissing her. The shiny ovals of Maureen’s pink-varnished fingernails were pressed against his back, contrasting with his dark blue corduroy shirt.

  Mel gasped. Keira instinctively put a protective hand on her shoulder. Maureen moved her head and opened her eyes and saw Mel and Keira. She gasped and her hands fell away from Steve. He turned quickly in the direction of Maureen’s gaze and groaned.

  They sprang apart.

  ‘Oh my God, Mel, I’m sorry,’ said Maureen.

  ‘Mel! Mel! Don’t! Sorry! Argh! Mel!’ said Steve.

  Mel cried out an inchoate retort, twisted away and ran out the back door.

  ‘I drank too much,’ said Maureen. ‘I shouldn’t have smoked that joint.’

  Steve leapt up and went after Melanie. Keira turned back to Maureen, her heart pounding as if she’d been running. She realised her mouth was hanging open like a cartoon version of someone in shock. Surely any moment she would wake up. Nessie appeared in her tartan flannelette pyjamas.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  They looked at her in silence until Keira said, ‘Something weird just happened.’

  Keira took the half-empty brandy bottle away from Maureen’s vicinity and moved towards the kitchen. She turned back to look at Maureen.

  ‘Black coffee, perhaps?’

  Maureen looked even more mortified than before. While Nessie made a pot of chamomile tea, Keira quietly filled her in on what had happened.