Had she gone too far? Louise was suddenly gripped with anxiety that she would not be able to pull it off. The dress she wore was made of a summer weight turquoise linen blend. It had a Chinese collar and tiny cuffs instead of sleeves at the shoulders. In the middle of the front of the dress, the bodice and skirt sections were connected by a 3” flat wooden ring, and the dress was cut away right around the waist.
“Hi Louise,” Jane was looking not at Louise but at Roxanne as she spoke. “What’s happened to your dress?”
Roxanne wasn’t to miss this golden opportunity to ridicule Louise either. “It gives new meaning to the words ‘20% off’, doesn’t it?”
Marie drew up beside Louise at that moment. “Oh, I don’t know.” She walked around Louise, appraising her ensemble. “If I had a wasitline like that, I wouldn’t cover it up either.” She turned to face Roxanne and Jane and asked “Would you?”
Louise was keen to respond to Marie’s generous lifeline. “Thanks, Marie. You look great! I love your hair!” And she air-kissed her youngest sister to avoid smearing her with lipstick.
“Dong-dong-dong!” It was Jim. “Everyone – that’s the dinner gong. Shall we all take our seats in the dining room?” Everyone obediently left the lounge room, crossed the entrance hall and entered the dining room. It was a large, oblong room. The left hand side wall was all windows and overlooked the front garden courtyard. The opposite wall was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, tightly packed with books of all colours and sizes. These shelves were truncated by another door, and a large sideboard stood against the remaining unshelved portion of the wall.
At the far end of the dining room, opposite the doorway everyone was passing through now, stood a large, old, upright piano, on which stood a number of silver framed photographs:- Mary, in her debut dress; Jane, holding her first child; Roxanne, on her wedding day; Louise, in her academic gown and Marie, at her high school formal. Everyone filed into the room under the friendly hum of trailing conversation. Each one chose their seat as preferentially as possible, some surreptitiously arranging themselves away from another; others openly declaring themselves to be sitting by their favourite.
Mary sat with her back to the piano, looking down at the broad table to her husband who occupied the opposite end.
“How come you are sitting there, Mum?” Marie asked loudly so she would be heard – and because she had a strong voice. “That’s Dad’s chair.”
Mary shook the large, white linen napkin before placing it on her lap. “Not tonight,” she answered. “Tonight Jim needs to be closest to the kitchen.”
“That’s right,” Jim agreed. He entered the dining room brandishing a bottle of claret and wearing a gaily printed kitchen towel slung over one shoulder. Jim’s face, normally a high colour, was tonight quite florid – testament to the “slaving over a hot stove” aspect of his labours. He poured an inch of wine into each crystal goblet passing from one to the other like a honey bee in a flower bed.
As Jim fussed around, enjoying the event he had devised and created, Jane turned to her mother. “Do you know why he invited us all over tonight?”
Before Mary could answer, Marie interrupted. “Invited? I was ordered to appear!”
Mary shrugged. “You’ll see,” she said. But Mary knew exactly why Jim had arranged the evening, and by doing all the work himself, he’d ensured that Mary couldn’t put it off.
Louise thought she had that much figured out, too. She leaned towards her mother and whispered conspiratorially “Is this a supplementary dinner to make up for the fact that you aren’t having Christmas dinner here this year?”
Mary picked up her wineglass and smirked at Louise. “Of course it is.” She took a sip. “That – and we were watching that restaurant show on TV last week. He has been practicing his serving skills ever since.”
At that moment, Jim appeared wearing what could only be described as an armour of crockery. Plates were arranged like china scales up his arm – four up his left arm, and two more dishes in each hand.
“Woah!! All eight of the guests were momentarily silenced by the peculiar spectacle of Jim in Maitre De mode. They watched, enthralled, as he delivered each plate to its recipient in precisely the right order so that the overall balance of the remaining meals was not disturbed. When the last meal had been dispatched, he announced with aplomb “Dinner is served.”
“Hey, Dad,” James did not recognize the meal set before him. “What’s this?”
“It is chicken morengo. But for those of you more accustomed to food groups available at franchised outlets, allow me to explain.” Clearly James was not the only one curious to know more about this scented carnal offering, because everyone paid attention.
“Here we have a selection of chicken joints – legs, thighs and wings – I threw out the breast meat because it is dry, tasteless fodder suited only to feeding cats,” Jim paused while various members of his audience voiced their dissent, then continued, “which have been poached in tomatoes, red wine and stock made from onion, celery and the limbless carcass of this fine bird.
“Dad!“ Marie dared to stop him mid-stream. “Do you have to be so graphic?”
“Be quiet and listen,” Jim ordered. “You might learn something. Poached, along with Black olives, evidence of which you can now see adorning the dish. I have served this culinary treat on a bed of polenta and, as a side dish, we have potatoes au gratin. Scollaped.” With that, he removed the cloth from his shoulder and took his seat.
The ensuing six full minutes of silence provided him with the only evidence he required that the meal was, in fact, delicious. The only sounds to be heard during this interval were those made by the silver cutlery meeting the Royal Albert crockery and the bone handles of the knives being ocassionally rested against the plates.
“Jim – this is fantastic!” Roxanne wanted to be the first to acknowledge her father-in-law’s accomplishment, knowing how much he would appreciate the compliment.
“Yes, it’s not bad,” Jim was modest.
“It’s really good, Dad,” Louise agreed.
“Well, you’ve done it now.” Mary’s eyes were bright – with wine? Or malice?
“Done what?” Jim was puzzled.
“Proven you can cook!” Mary was triumphant. “I’ve been doing all the cooking for the past 30 years. Now it’s your turn!”
Jim sighed and addressed James, who happened to be sitting to his left. “That’s so typical of your mother,” he began.
“Before you two get into a three hour argument over the never-ending battle on who has worked the hardest,” Jane was determined to satisfy her curiosity, “Please tell us why we are here!”
“I’m here for the food,” said Michael between mouthfuls.
“Us, too,” Sam and James agreed.
“Oh, all right,” James complied reluctantly. “There are two reasons we are gathered here tonight.” Once again Jim held the floor. He was in his element. “This is better than Christmas,” he thought. He looked around the room and saw his five grown children, two in-laws, and felt proud and happy. “The first reason is to acknowledge our wonderful family and to pay tribute to the fact that we will soon – this July, in fact – be welcoming our first Keats grandchild into the family.” Jim paused to raise his glass to Roxanne. Michael, sitting beside her, glowed with happiness and pride.
Louise watched Marie, wondering what would happen now. At last Marie spoke.
“Actually, Dad, you are only partly right.”
Jim looked at Marie. “Why is that?”
“Well,” Marie spoke carefully. “We will be welcoming the first Keats grandchild, but it won’t be Roxanne’s.”
Now everyone looked at Marie.
She continued. “I’m due in June.”
Louise broke the shocked silence that followed Marie’s announcement as gently as she could.
“But Dad,” her tone was soft but clear. “You said there were two reasons?” Jim looked at her without comprehension, so Louise prom
pted him. “That we were here tonight?”
At that moment, the doorbell chimed.
“Yes,” said Jim absentmindedly. “That will be the second reason now.” And he left the room to answer the door.
Chapter 15
Jim was barely out of the room before Roxanne leant across the table towards Marie and spoke, her voice dripping with ghoulish horror and relish.
“Who’s the father?” She hissed.
Roxanne, Jane and Mary looked expectantly at Marie, not daring to speak, awaiting her response.
But Marie had anticipated this expression of interest – not in her well-being, but in the personal details. And she had already decided to extract as much value as she could from her situation, and their curiosity. So Marie sighed, and looked across at Louise. “Shall I tell them?” She asked.
Louise was unprepared for this acknowledgment of her inclusion in Marie’s confidence, and had to stifle a nervous giggle. She could see that Marie was “working the crowd” but had not anticipated the brazen way she was buttering them up.
“Do you know?” Jane demanded of Louise. Mary and Roxanne looked as though they had been bitten by the tooth fairy.
“I asked Louise not to tell anyone,” Marie responded for her.
“So, whose is it?” Roxanne wanted to know. Then, true to form, she asked indelicately, “Do you know?”
Marie scoffed. “Do you?”
“What?” Roxanne almost shrieked. “Of course I know – I’m married!”
“So what?” said Marie. “Plenty of married women get pregnant to other men and pass the baby off as their husbands.”
Jane nodded. “That’s true, actually,” she said. “I knew a girl in Florey –“
“How dare you!” Roxanne spluttered.
“You started it.” Marie’s voice was hard. “Just try to get your mind out of the gutter, Roxanne. Single women become pregnant in exactly the same way as married ones do.”
Before anyone else could say anything more, Jim returned. “Look who’s here!” He announced, apparently having put aside for the moment that his youngest and favorite unmarried daughter had just announced her pregnancy. “Eve!”
And Aunty Eve appeared behind him.
“So –“ Eve smiled broadly and said in her inimitable, raspy voice, “How are ya?” She laughed happily as she clasped each one in turn in a big hug, telling them how great they looked even as she sought the eyes of the next person she wanted to greet.
“God, Jim – I haven’t missed dinner, have I?” Eve pretended to be querulous while Jim found and shone her a wine glass.
“No, no – I just wasn’t sure when you would arrive.”
“Good!” Eve sipped the wine gratefully.” Ahh! I needed that!”
Unsure of how to negotiate the now shark-infested waters of relevant family discussion, Mary and Jim tacitly agreed to carry on as though no announcement of an unplanned pregnancy had just occurred. The conversation, therefore, followed the general family catch-up: How were her teenage children doing at school? How long was she able to stay in Canberra? Where were the kids? Were they with Martin?
“Speaking of Martin, you never told us why you divorced him” Jim asked Eve as he refilled her glass. “I hope enough time has passed for me to ask you. What brought that on?”
Eve sat back in her chair and looked at her brother squarely, her chin raised. “He gave me VD,” she answered.
“Shit.” said Michael, pretty much voicing the collective reaction. He then tried to hide his embarrassment with a nervous smile, and sank down as low as he could into his chair, possibly to avoid the flack he felt sure would be directed at all the husbands in the room.
But Eve laughed and refilled her glass from the bottle Jim still held, handing it back to him when she was finished. “What an idiot!” She looked at Mary. “Can you imagine it?”
Mary shook her head, real sympathy in her eyes, as Eve continued.
“I move to a foreign country with my first baby so Martin can be near his parents – people who were never nice to me and treated me as though I was lucky to have married their golden son. I leave my mother, who dies while I am away.” Eve pauses and shakes her head. “His parents are still kicking on though.” Eve pauses again to sip her wine. No one speaks and she goes on. “I learn a foreign language; I have four more sons before finally having a daughter of my own. I miss 20 years with my family in my country, and all the while Martin is living like a playboy. And me – the idiot – has no idea! Even when I am at the doctor’s surgery and he is telling me I have VD, I had no idea what he was saying. Imagine what a fool I felt! Ain’t love grand?” And she laughed her signature cackle.
*
Louise had always been intimidated by Aunty Eve. Intimidated was probably the wrong word, since it implied a malevolent purpose which Eve did not possess. But Louise felt overshadowed, dominated, obscured by her aunt in a way no one else made her feel. Even now, as Eve exposed her most personal pain – a thing most women would have been embarrassed and ashamed of and tried to hide – even in this situation, Eve seemed brave and heroic.
“She doesn’t take it personally,” Louise thought to herself. “Her husband, whom she loves and to whom she has been a faithful wife for 21 years has behaved dishonorably, but Eve has done nothing wrong and she refuses to feel shame.” Louise marvelled at this personality trait and decided to reinforce a similar attitude in her own life. Why should a person feel shame for the actions of a relative? They weren’t responsible, nor did they have any control over the behavior of any of the members of their family.
When she had walked in tonight, she was classic Eve – the family icon of female success. Blonded hair; dark eyes framed by dark lashes and fashionably thick, shaped brows; cherry-red lips and a slim, taught figure. She might have walked off a photo shoot. She was perfect.
Her six children were perfect, too. Jason, 20, was second year medicine; Adam, 19, was first year surveying and the remaining four were still in boarding school, all doing well.
*
Eve had met Martin when he was a university student at St Lucia in Brisbane and she was in her senior year of high school at All Hallows. He was 8 years older than she, but since he was not a big man and very handsome, the age difference only added to his general allure for the 17 year old Eve. She had long, thick, wavy black hair that Lila had lovingly trained to fall into loose ringlets. Eve had been standing at the bus stop in Eagle St, carrying her artwork portfolio, after attending an interview for acceptance in the design program offered at the Brisbane technical college in the coming year. Although it was only 5.30, it was already becoming dark. Brisbane enjoys beautiful weather but, like most sub-tropical locales, only about 5 minutes of twilight before the bright daylight abruptly ends and the thick, dark night takes over.
Martin had recently taken possession of a red Jaguar sports car his father had given him as a reward for doing well at university. Actually, he hadn’t done all that well – 2 credits and 2 passes – but it was his final year and he would graduate on time. It was an early graduation gift. Martin had been surprised to receive it, since he had thought he would be called back to Hong Kong as soon as his studies were over. But the arrival of the car made him think otherwise. Why would his father provide him with such an expensive – and non-transportable – gift, if he was going to ask him to give it up and fly home?
Whatever the reason, Martin was delighted by the car and had tired of driving around the campus roads and St Lucia, so had ventured down Coronation Drive, past the Regatta Hotel and on to Queen St. It was 1965 and the car had attracted a lot of attention. Martin already knew he was a nice looking man. The only thing more attractive than a nice looking young man was a nice looking young man driving an expensive car. It was like saying “I’m rich, too.”
And the only think more attractive to a nice looking, rich young man than an expensive red sports car was a beautiful young woman.
He saw Eve immediately and she of course notice
d the car when it pulled into the bus stop. Martin was smiling, and as he was feeling confident and cheeky, had thought he might speak to this lovely girl. Then he noticed the school uniform she wore and knew that if he said the wrong thing, his chance would be lost. At that moment, the bus arrived and hooted angrily at Martin. He was forced to drive off.
All he knew about Eve was the evidence provided by the school uniform that she attended All Hallows Catholic girls’ school.
The next day, he parked his car near the school gates and waited. He figured that the car was hard to miss, and that she would recognize it before she would recognize him. In fact, he reasoned, if she saw him without the car, she might not recognize him because he would be “out of context”. And his ploy worked. From the crowd of 600 girls disgorging from the school at 3.30 that afternoon, every one of them saw his red car and one of them was Eve. She stopped, looked, and returned his smile and wave. Thus encouraged, Martin got out of the car and sauntered over to where Eve stood, now apart from the rest of the girls.
“Hello,” Martin smiled at Eve. “I saw you yesterday.”
“I know,” Eve smiled back. “What are you doing here?” She looked back at the still thick stream of girls leaving the school to see if any of them were approaching this young man. Could he be someone’s brother?
“I wanted to see you again,” he answered simply.
“Oh!” Eve was flattered and delighted by this admission. “But I have to go straight home now.” She sounded sorry to disappoint him.
“I know,” answered Martin. He knew not to ask her if he could drive her home – he would be refused. And he only intended to be accepted. “But it’s Friday night. Could I call on you at home, after dinner?”
Eve was torn. Her home was very, very humble and she was only able to attend this elite Brisbane school as a scholarship student. But what could she do? If he didn’t meet her parents, she couldn’t go out with him and she wanted to go out with him – as soon as possible and as often as possible. So, terrified by the prospect, she nonetheless agreed to invite Martin to her home and she gave him her address.
Christmas in Canberra Page 19
