Those Faraday Girls

by Monica McInerney

‘It made me feel better. I put it straight in the jewellery box when I got back, I promise.’

  ‘Did you pass the exam?’

  ‘With flying colours,’ Juliet said.

  Miranda turned. ‘Eliza? Do you have anything to confess, my child?’

  Eliza shook her head. ‘I never tried on anything. I just liked going in there, sitting in the wardrobe.’

  ‘You’d sit in there?’

  ‘I used to think I could still smell her perfume on some of her clothes.’

  ‘Clementine?’ Miranda asked.

  ‘Never. I always felt too guilty even looking in the wardrobe, let alone sitting in it.’

  They were nearly home.

  ‘You haven’t asked me if I ever went in there.’ It was Sadie, looking unhappy.

  ‘Sorry, Sadie.’ Juliet ignored Miranda’s rolling of eyes. ‘Did you?’

  Sadie nodded, then lifted her shirt to show the top of her jeans. A brightly coloured scarf was wound through the belt loops. ‘This scarf was Mum’s.’

  ‘Sadie!’ Juliet was shocked.

  ‘When did you take it?’ Miranda asked.

  ‘Last year.’

  Juliet wasn’t happy. ‘Sadie, that’s not on.’

  ‘What’s the difference? You borrowed her ring. Miranda tried on her dress.’

  ‘For less than an hour,’ Miranda said, ‘and it was only for that long because I couldn’t get the damn thing off.’

  ‘And I only had the ring for the day.’

  Sadie pulled her shirt down. ‘You’re all just jealous because you didn’t think of it first.’

  Leo was in the shed. Clementine left a sleeping Maggie in her pram on the back verandah, within hearing distance. The shed light wasn’t on but they could hear him humming. Juliet knocked.

  He opened the door with a smile. ‘Girls! Five girls in fact! What a delegation. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  The others looked to Juliet. ‘Dad, we need to talk to you about something. About Mum,’ she said.

  ‘I see.’ His expression instantly became wary. ‘Will we go inside?’

  They settled in the living room, Leo in his usual armchair, the five sisters taking up all available space on the two sofas. Maggie’s pram was now outside the living-room door. They were all so quiet her baby snores were audible.

  Miranda looked at Juliet, urging her to start. She took a breath. ‘Dad, we’ve been talking —’

  ‘Better that than fighting, I suppose,’ he said, too cheerily. ‘You know, when you all appeared at the shed door like that my first thought was, oh no, another one’s pregnant…’

  Juliet ignored that. She decided to launch straight into it. ‘Dad, we think it’s time you let us go through Mum’s clothes. Through all her things. And we’d like to have the choice to read her diaries. We think it’s important.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just like that? Can’t you at least think about it?’

  There was no sign of his joking face now. ‘What’s brought this on? We’re just getting on top of things; Clementine’s doing so well with Maggie – another hurdle crossed as a family. Why —’

  Juliet interrupted him. ‘Because we need to. We know everything of Mum’s is still in your wardrobe.’

  A faint flush appeared on his cheeks.

  ‘We need you to share it,’ Eliza said.

  ‘But why now?’

  ‘Because of me, Dad.’ Clementine looked directly at him. ‘I need help. I want to ask Mum questions about being a mother, about looking after a baby, about how it feels. And I can’t. I think having her things around us, talking about her more, even seeing her diaries, will be the next best thing.’

  ‘Ask me about having babies. I fathered all five of you, remember.’

  ‘It’s a woman thing, Dad. Please don’t take offence. But —’ She faltered as his expression became stony.

  Sadie stepped in. ‘It’s been nine years, Dad.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t missed her every single day of those nine years?’

  His raised voice silenced them. Maggie began to whimper. All of them watched as Clementine moved across to the pram and settled Maggie again. No one spoke until she was back in her seat.

  Juliet tried again. ‘This will help all of us, Dad.’

  ‘We’re doing just fine as it is.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  They all turned to Miranda. Confident, dramatic Miranda.

  ‘Well, I’m not. Dad, you’re not the only one who misses her. I wish every day that she was here, that I could talk to her. Feel that she was around.’

  Leo ran his hand through his hair. ‘I know that. But seeing her clothes, reading her diaries… that won’t bring her back.’

  ‘So why have you kept them, then?’

  ‘I haven’t kept them.’

  ‘Your wardrobe is full of her things. We’ve all seen them.’ Juliet said.

  ‘The clothes are still there. But the diaries are gone.’ He hesitated. ‘I burnt them. She always said to me that if anyone ever read them she’d be in big trouble. She made me promise to get rid of them if she… if anything ever happened. I took her at her word. I had to. They were her private thoughts. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I did. I burnt them all.’

  Juliet glanced at Clementine. She was biting her lip.

  ‘When, Dad?’ Eliza asked.

  ‘A month after she died.’

  ‘Didn’t you think of us?’ Clementine’s voice cracked. ‘Think that we might like to read them one day?’ Beside her, Juliet reached for her hand.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking straight about anyone at that time. I’m sorry.’ He looked wretched. ‘I should have thought that you might want to read them one day. I didn’t. Everything else is there still, I promise.’ He was silent a moment. ‘I thought it would make it easier. I hated the thought of opening the wardrobe to take out a shirt and her side of it being empty. It would have —’ He stopped. ‘I liked them being there. They reminded me of her every single day.’

  ‘We’d like that reminder of her too,’ Eliza said.

  ‘Please, Dad.’ Clementine’s voice was soft.

  Leo stood up. ‘I need to think about it for a little while.’

  The next day was Sunday. At the breakfast table, Leo waited until they had finished their once-a-week treat of bacon and eggs. The newspaper had been passed between all of them. Clementine had just given Maggie a feed. The mood was warm, relaxed. No one had mentioned anything about the previous day’s conversation.

  ‘We could start on it today if you like.’

  Five heads shot up.

  ‘I thought about it last night,’ he said. ‘I imagined asking your mother about it. I’m sure she’d have told me I was being silly, keeping everything for this long.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Miranda said.

  He stood up. ‘Ready when you are, then.’

  They made it fun. They turned it into a fashion show. There were some tears from each of them, but there was no teasing, not even from Miranda.

  There were dresses, coats and skirts hanging in the left-hand side of the wardrobe. Shirts, jeans and scarves in the drawers. Her shoes were in bags, each one polished, many pairs with shoe horns. There were two jewellery boxes, one with rings, the other with necklaces and earrings. ‘All costume jewellery,’ Miranda announced authoritatively.

  Leo left them to it. It made it easier on everyone. Juliet took charge, taking each item out one by one, holding it up as they passed remarks or asked to try it on. It helped that none of them was the same size as their mother. She had been at least two sizes smaller than Sadie, two inches shorter than Juliet and Miranda. It also helped that each of them had different taste in clothes. They decided anything they couldn’t wear would go to a charity shop.

  The scarves, rings and necklaces were divided between them. The shoes – too small for them all – went into the charity bags, except for one pair each as a keepsake. Clementine chose a pair for Maggie to
o.

  The final drawer yielded a surprise. A box wrapped in silver and rose coloured paper, with a bow on the top.

  Juliet called her father back in. Leo took it, holding it in one hand, moving it to the other, awkward again. ‘This was for her. For your mother. I bought it the week before she died. It was supposed to be a welcome-home present. I’ve never known what to do with it.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Perfume. A new perfume that had just been released. She loved perfume.’

  ‘See, I take after her,’ Miranda said.

  ‘Open it, Dad,’ Eliza urged.

  He did, carefully taking off the sticky tape, now yellowed with age. He opened the box. Inside was an elaborately shaped purple glass bottle, with the name of the perfume in gold curving writing across the front. ‘Moonstruck,’ Leo read. ‘That’s right. It was called Moonstruck. I loved the smell of it too.’

  ‘Can I try it?’ Miranda put out her hand. Leo handed over the bottle, his attention taken by the card attached to the box. Juliet watched as he opened the envelope and read the message inside, then silently slipped the card into his pocket.

  Miranda sprayed the perfume onto her wrist and waited a moment before smelling it. ‘Oh my God!’ she said, pulling a face and waving her wrist dramatically. ‘It’s disg—’

  ‘Distinctive?’ Juliet said hurriedly, nodding towards their father. ‘Here, let me try.’

  Miraculously, Miranda picked up the cue. ‘Incredibly distinctive. I’ve never smelt anything like it,’ she said, too effusively.

  Juliet tried it. So did the others. Miranda was right. It was disgusting. Too flowery, too musky, too spicy. Whether time was to blame, or whether it had always been disgusting, they didn’t know.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Eliza said.

  Sadie nodded. ‘So memorable.’

  ‘It takes my breath away,’ Clementine added.

  Miranda snorted.

  Leo looked delighted. Almost reverentially, he packed the bottle back into the box. ‘I know you will all want to share this, but I think it should stay with one person to begin with.’ With great solemnity, he held it out. ‘Juliet, as the oldest —’

  ‘Honestly, Dad, I hardly ever wear perfume. Miranda?’

  Miranda took a step back. ‘No, no, you’re the oldest.’

  ‘Dad, are you sure?’ Juliet didn’t look happy.

  ‘It would mean a lot to me to know you were wearing it. I should have done this years ago.’

  The last of their mother’s clothes had just been carefully folded into a bag when Miranda spoke. ‘Dad, while we’re all here, doing this, I think there’s something else we should say.’

  Leo waited.

  ‘If you ever meet someone else, a woman, someone you like, then it’s fine with me.’

  ‘What’s fine with you?’

  ‘If you want to have another relationship. You’re still young.’

  ‘Young? I’m fifty-two years old.’

  ‘I know you loved Mum and I know that wouldn’t change if you did meet someone else.’

  The telephone rang. Leo looked relieved. ‘Thank you, Miranda,’ he said as he hurried out to the hallway.

  ‘It is okay with everyone, isn’t it?’ Miranda asked, looking around the room.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Sadie replied. ‘Well, maybe it is, but you shouldn’t have sprung it on us like that.’

  ‘It wasn’t fair, Miranda,’ Eliza said. ‘You didn’t check with the rest of us first.’

  ‘Don’t you agree? Don’t you think it would be all right for Dad to meet someone else? To get married again if he wanted?’

  ‘Have someone else live here?’ Clementine looked alarmed. ‘With all of us?’

  ‘We’re not all going to live here together for the rest of our lives, are we? I know I’m not. And before you say anything else, Clementine, I’m not about to move out and abandon you and Maggie. But we need to look to the future.’

  ‘I don’t know if I would like Dad to get married again,’ Clementine said. ‘I can’t imagine someone else sleeping in here with him.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not supposed to imagine your parents having sex. But if he wanted to, he should be allowed to. He’s a young man, he’s got a good job, he’s got all his hair, even if it is red. He’s a catch.’

  ‘A catch?’ Eliza scoffed. ‘A man who comes complete with five daughters and a granddaughter? Any sane woman would run for her life.’

  ‘I think it’s still too soon, for Dad and for us,’ Sadie said.

  Juliet turned back to the bed and fastened the bag of clothes. What would it mean? A guilt-free handing over of responsibilities to another woman?

  ‘I think it would be wonderful,’ she said.

  The next morning, before it was quite light, Miranda came out of her bedroom, wrapped in her silk dressing-gown, groaning inwardly at the faint throbbing in her head. Her own fault, she’d downed too many gin and tonics during late drinks with her friend Liz. Without turning on the light, Miranda made her way to the cabinet in the corner of the bathroom, in urgent need of the headache tablets she kept on hand for mornings like this. She reached inside her sponge bag and rummaged around. The tablets were there, thank God. But so was something else. Something hard and smooth. It felt like a glass bottle. She switched on the light. It was a glass bottle. A purple glass bottle. She grinned, despite the headache. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ she said out loud.

  Two days later Clementine was trying to find a matching pair of socks for Maggie. She’d done a big load of washing but hadn’t had time to sort everything yet. Hers and Maggie’s clean clothes were still in a tangled bundle. She had an essay on the nesting habits of eastern black-billed gulls to write and a lot of reading to do. The juggling act between her studies and looking after Maggie was getting more difficult every week, but she was determined not to let on.

  She emptied the basket onto the bed, a multicoloured tumble of T-shirts and little socks spilling across the bedspread. As she moved a small pink singlet, something purple rolled off the cover onto the floor below. Something hard. A glass bottle.

  She was laughing as she picked it up.

  Four days later, Eliza and her coach were on their way to an athletics carnival in Launceston. Although he was now based in Melbourne, Mark returned regularly to see his sons and check on her training. Conversation flowed easily between them. They talked tactics, discussed the possible results for the day. As they passed through Campbell Town in the Midlands, they started talking about the plans for their fitness company. In the warmth of the car, Eliza felt her excitement build again. Not about the race, not just about their work, but about their future together. It was several years off yet, but they spoke about it as if she was due to start work the next day.

  She was still in love with him. She wondered whether he had guessed yet. It was like a lovely secret, something warm buried inside her. There was no rush. She felt the same way about Mark as she did about her training. It was a matter of long-term planning. Being sure of where you were headed. And being patient. She didn’t care how long she had to wait for him. It was as simple as that.

  They arrived and parked alongside the other cars. She took her bag out of the boot, heading for the changing room. ‘Good luck,’ Mark said, briefly touching her back as he passed her. Even a fleeting caress like that made her feel like a cat, wanting to stretch with pleasure, press up against him. The day would come when she would do exactly that, tell him how she felt, she knew it. It made it all the more exciting.

  In the changing room she nodded at the other women, put her bag in the corner and reached inside for her running gear. As she pulled the shoes out she noticed a glint of colour inside the left one. She frowned. Whatever it was had been pushed right inside the toe. She pulled it out. It was a purple glass bottle.

  Three of her competitors turned around at her sudden burst of laughter.

  Sadie spent more time in the library than any of her sisters. She liked the peace and qu
iet. She liked the fact she could read the latest newspapers and magazines for free. She liked their extensive reference section. She didn’t look up information on Jane Austen or the Romantic poets, though. She spent her time looking up parenting manuals, childhood development reference books and mother and baby magazines. It was fun to read about the stages a baby went through in theory and then to see Maggie do it in reality. She wasn’t imagining it, either. Maggie was definitely more advanced than average. At her age, coming up to eleven months, she should be just crawling, have several teeth and general dexterity. Maggie had not only been crawling for months, she was even starting to walk, had lots of teeth and was already able to build little towers of blocks.

  It continually surprised Sadie how fascinating Maggie was. When she had first come back from hospital with Clementine, Maggie had done little but sleep, eat and fill her nappies. In the past few months, though, she had become something. Become someone. Sadie was entranced. It wasn’t something she had admitted to any of her sisters, but it had never really occurred to her that Maggie would be her own person. Have a distinct personality, even as a baby. Yet she did. Those dark eyes of hers would fill with laughter sometimes, especially when Sadie did a silly dance in front of her. She could also look bored. Annoyed. Curious. All the things human beings could look. Sadie could hear Miranda’s mocking tones: ‘Of course she does things a human being does, Sadie. That’s because she is a human being.’

  Sadie simply hadn’t expected to find her niece quite as bewitching as this. A five-year-old, yes. A teenager, definitely. But a baby? It had been a wonderful surprise. She never minded any more when Clementine asked her to look after Maggie for a few hours while she tried to catch up on sleep, or meet a friend, or try to have something close to a normal teenager’s life even for just a few hours. Sadie had begun to offer to babysit, and to her delight Clementine accepted every time. Sadie would play with her niece or hold her in her arms as she watched TV, loving the warm heavy weight of her, the gentle rhythm of her breathing. She even read to her, despite the fact that Miranda, again, told her she was being silly, but Maggie did respond to stories and colours, Sadie was sure of it.