by Ilsa Evans
‘Hey,’ exclaims Fergus suddenly, ‘is this yer man that –’
‘So, Alex,’ asks Terry politely as Fergus abruptly buckles over moaning, ‘how are you finding the house?’
‘Is he okay?’ Alex looks with concern at Fergus, who is hugging his midriff in pain. ‘Does he need any help?’
‘Oh, no,’ replies Terry airily, ‘he just gets heart-burn, that’s all. Now, you were saying? About the house?’
‘It’s not bad, actually,’ replies Alex, eyeing Fergus doubtfully. ‘Apart from the neighbours, that is.’
‘Ha, ha,’ I laugh jovially as I narrow my eyes in warning at a slowly recovering Fergus.
‘No, seriously, I reckon my sister did quite well.’ Alex smiles at Maggie and she grins back complacently and raises her glass in a salute.
‘Not much work to be done?’ asks Fergus, one hand still grasping his stomach as he flips his tie out ostentatiously, obviously touting for business. ‘Let me know if you’re after a handyman. Cam’ll recommend me.’
‘Hmm,’ I comment enigmatically.
‘I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.’ Alex takes a sip of beer and reads the monogram on Fergus’s tie. ‘There are a couple of things actually – like the ceiling, for a start. There’s a really odd dent that’ll need plastering over.’
‘Hey! Who wants to buy a baby?’ David bounces over with a tightly wrapped baby girl in each arm and dumps one unceremoniously onto Maggie’s lap and the other onto Terry’s. ‘Alex, my man, great to see you again. How’s life treating you?’
‘Not a problem, and congratulations!’ Alex stands up and shakes David’s hand. ‘And what a beautiful pair they are!’
‘So I’m told, mate, so I’m told.’
‘David, you are totally sexist,’ I comment with a shake of my head.
‘What! Why do you say that?’
‘Because there’re two guys here but you still picked on the women to offload your babies on, that’s why.’
‘Okay, then, I’m sexist. Who am I to argue? After all, the nose nose. Get it?’
‘How droll.’ I take a sip of wine and then laugh as I catch sight of Terry, who is desperately trying to pass the baby she is holding onto someone else. It’s probably Regan and she has fixed her with one of those gimlet gazes. Fergus takes the bunny-rugged bundle with surprising expertise and starts to rock and coo at the same time.
‘Is he trying to give those babies away again?’ Diane comes up behind her husband and links her arm through his. ‘He hasn’t found any takers yet so he’s getting desperate.’
‘Are you saying we’re the bottom of the barrel?’ asks Maggie with her eyebrows raised. ‘Because I might take offence to that.’
‘Diane, you are looking positively radiant.’ Alex stands again and gives her a kiss on the cheek. ‘And I’ve already congratulated your husband here so a hearty congratulations and well done to you too.’
‘Thanks, Alex,’ says Diane as she gives him a hug. ‘It’s really great to see you back. I was thrilled when Mum said she’d invited you today.’
‘Oh, Diane, David,’ I say, suddenly remembering that they haven’t met Fergus. ‘This is Fergus O’Connor, Terry’s new boyfriend.’
While they shake hands I smirk at Terry and she grimaces back. Then the tinkling sound of a spoon hitting a glass echoes across the yard and gradually everybody slowly but surely hushes.
‘Hello, hello, everybody?’ The portly guy who was acting as Harold’s best man is standing by one of the decorated archways. ‘I’d like to have your attention for a while, if you don’t mind. Only a couple of speeches and then we’ll be bringing out a smorgasbord for you all to enjoy. So, in the meantime, if each table would like to grab one of the bottles of champagne that are coming around now so that you’ll be able to charge your glasses when it’s time, then we’ll get underway.’
Diane and David find some spare chairs and drag them over. Maggie twists herself around and adjusts the baby on her rather ample lap while one of the catering staff hands Alex a bottle of champagne as he moves past. Terry deftly grabs another two from a waiter behind us so that we now have three between us.
‘We might need these,’ she whispers loudly to the table in general, as she proceeds to pop the cork out of one of the bottles and fill the empty glasses which have magically appeared on the table. She grabs her glass and moves her seat around to face the speaker.
‘All right then, if everybody’s organised, I’d like to say a few words about the happy couple first, if I may. I first met Harold way back in 1962 when we were –’
‘Pssst,’ whispers Alex in my ear.
‘What?’ I whisper back.
‘You’re looking rather good for someone turning forty today. Happy birthday.’
‘Why thanks!’ I look at him with genuine surprise. ‘Do you know, you’re the only one who’s remembered.’
‘Really? Well, I suppose there is a lot going on,’ he replies, looking over at Harold’s best man who is still droning on and showing no signs of stopping. ‘So where’s your boyfriend?’
‘What boyfriend?’
‘The one you arrived here with – in the car.’
‘That’s not my boyfriend, idiot, that’s Elizabeth’s boyfriend.’
‘Bloody Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, Bloody Elizabeth.’
‘Oh.’ Alex leans back in his chair and mulls this over before continuing: ‘Oh, I see.’
‘Bully for you.’
‘And I almost forgot.’ He pulls an envelope out of his jacket pocket and hands it over to me. ‘I got you a present. For your birthday, that is.’
‘Why thank you,’ I say, genuinely touched. I untuck the flap of the envelope and pull out a gift certificate. Thoughts of a mini shopping spree flit gaily through my mind for a brief second or two, and then I read what is written on the certificate itself. A twelve-month gym membership. I stare at this blankly for a few minutes.
‘Don’t you like it?’ Alex looks disappointed. ‘I asked Sam and she suggested this. She said you’d love it.’
‘Oh, I do. Thanks very much.’ I smile at him convincingly as I tuck it back into the envelope and store it in my handbag. ‘Very thoughtful. Very nice.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘. . . and so I’d like to ask you all to charge your glasses and drink a toast to the newly married couple – may they always remain as happy as they are today!’
‘Cheers,’ sixty-odd voices call out and sixty-odd hands raise sixty-odd glasses to sixty-odd mouths. I take a deep sip as I reflect on what I could do to my daughter to exact revenge for a twelve-month gift certificate to a gym that she – not me – has been dying to join. At least it was something Sam suggested, so it doesn’t necessarily reflect on how he perceived my body Tuesday night. Which is what I thought at first. And suddenly I realise that I haven’t seen any of my children for quite some time. In fact, I don’t even know how Ben got here from the church.
‘Does anyone know where my kids are?’
‘Ben’s sitting over there with Michael and a couple of Harold’s cousin’s kids,’ answers Diane, pointing over to the other side of the yard. ‘And Sam’s sitting with Sara and two of my boys at the table next to them. What did you think of the dresses?’
‘Extremely gross. Where’s CJ?’
‘Oh, she’s having a marvellous time sitting over with Mum and Harold and all their friends. Getting spoilt rotten.’
‘And now, friends, I’d like to hand the floor over to my good friend Harold, who wants to say a few words on behalf of himself and his new wife. Here’s Harold!’ The best man waves grandiosely over towards where Harold is sitting and then steps back. Everybody cheers as if this is some sort of vaudeville show and Harold stands up, bows, and moves over to the archway.
He clears his throat noisily. ‘Firstly, on behalf of my wife and I, I’d like to welcome you all here to share with us this special day, is that right? And it is a special day because today –’
‘Pssst,’ I whisper to Alex.
‘What?’ he whispers back.
‘You’re looking rather dapper too.’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘Where’s your fiancée?’
‘What fiancée?’
‘The one in your driveway the other day.’
‘She’s not my fiancée. It was all a big misunderstanding.’
‘That’s some misunderstanding.’
‘I’ll tell you about it later – but she’s not my fiancée.’
‘Was she ever your fiancée?’
‘God, you’re persistent! Yes, she was my fiancée but she’s not now.’
‘. . . and so I’d like you all to charge your glasses one more time and drink to this very special day and thank you all for sharing it with us, is that right?’
‘Cheers!’ sixty-odd voices call out again as, all across the garden, glasses are raised. And then a long line of black and white catering staff emerge from the back door of the house, each bearing an enormous platter of steaming food. They thread their way expertly through the throng of guests and deposit their offerings onto white linen draped trestle tables set up in the centre of the yard. Platter after platter appears until the tables are heaped with food and the guests get up eagerly to crowd around and help themselves to the smorgasbord.
‘Hi, Dad! Hey, Mum?’ Sam drops down onto one knee beside my chair. ‘Is it okay if I stay at Sara’s tonight? We’re working on an assignment together and we want to get it finished. I can go to school with her tomorrow.’
‘Love your dress.’
‘Yeah, yeah. So, can I?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ I say, mulling the proposition over.
‘Danke!’ Sam drops a kiss on the top of my head and then leans over and drops one on the top of her father’s head as well. ‘I’ll see you after school tomorrow, then.’
‘I’m so proud of her,’ I say to Alex. ‘And you should be too. She’s so keen on her studies, I never have to nag her at all. I’m sure she’s going to do really well.’
‘Yeah, and I reckon she’ll enjoy a couple of years in the army,’ Alex replies as he takes a sip of his beer.
‘The army!’ I frown at him in amazement. ‘Who said anything about the army?’
‘Why, she did! Didn’t she tell you?’
‘I’m going to get something to eat.’ I put my glass down abruptly and get up from the table. The army! How ridiculous. And anyway, if Sam was thinking about the army, I’d be the first person she’d tell.
‘Sam, what’s all this rubbish about the army?’ I hiss as I push my way in next to her at the serving tables and grab a plate from a pile at the end.
‘I’m going to join up – at the end of the year, of course,’ says Sam calmly as she helps herself to some chicken Kiev. ‘I’ve tried to tell you, but you don’t seem very interested.’
‘Not interested!’ I say as I wave my plate around with excitement. ‘Not interested in what you want to do with the rest of your life?’
‘That’s right. So I was going to tell you next week when we met up with the careers counsellor. And please keep your voice down.’
‘Why the army, just tell me that? You realise that you’d have to leave home?’
‘Well, it started because of my name – Sam Brown – that’s what officers wear. Harold told me last year and it got me thinking. And so I sent away for the pamphlets and worked it all out. When I get my VCE I’m going to, like, join up and do a uni course through the army. Fully paid. Dad thinks it’s a great idea. And anyway, I’ve made up my mind.’ She grabs a set of tongs, picks up some salad and plops it on her plate before turning to me. ‘Look, if you want to talk about it some more I don’t mind, only let’s talk about it tomorrow. Like, not now, okay?’
‘Then why don’t we talk about a twelve-month gym membership, hmm?’
‘Oh, Mum! That’d be great!’ She beams at me. ‘And it’ll really help with my fitness for the army. You’re the best!’
Slightly dumbfounded, I watch her move off along the trestle tables and then shake my head in disbelief. But, then again, it’s probably just a stage and she’ll change her mind by the end of the year. Apart from anything else, there’s no way she’s ready to leave home. But fancy her confiding in Alex and not me! He’s only been back a matter of days and it starts already. I lean forwards desultorily and pick up a ladle to help myself to some scalloped potatoes but, before I can use it, a wizened little old lady rips it out of my hand and brandishes it in the air in front of my face.
‘You pushed in! I saw you! Go to the back of the line and wait your turn!’
Well, if that’s Harold’s mother then I’ve just now changed my mind – I’m not looking forward to meeting her after all. I wipe some scalloped potato off my shoulder and stand back, wait till she passes and then grab the ladle before anyone else can. Then I help myself, watching surreptitiously to make sure she doesn’t turn around and spot me.
‘Well, well, well. For an ex, he is very cute. Not bad at all,’ Terry whispers in my ear loudly as she passes behind.
‘But?’ I ask, because with Terry there’s usually a but or two.
‘It’s also cute, from what I saw anyway. So, if it wasn’t for the fiancée, I’d totally approve.’ She blithely continues up the line towards the bread rolls before I can tell her that the fiancée isn’t an issue any more. Instead I concentrate on dumping my scalloped potatoes neatly on my plate.
‘Cam, how’s it going?’ Phillip moves up next to me and picks up the salad tongs.
‘Hey, what happened to you?’ I ask because I haven’t seen him since he helped extricate me from Terry’s tiny Barina. ‘Are you ignoring the rest of us?’
‘Oh, Beth’s got some bee in her bonnet about you at the moment and insisted on us sitting across the other side of the garden,’ he says ruefully, and then spots his beloved moving rapidly over to join us. ‘And there she is. Catch you later, I’m off.’
I pick up the tongs from the table where he dropped them and help myself to some salad as I watch my youngest sister approach with a face like thunder.
‘I know what you’re up to, and it won’t work,’ she says as soon as she pushes in beside me, ‘so you might as well give up.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say as I pass her the tongs and move on down to the bread basket, ‘but if you push in like that, Harold’s mother will get you.’
‘Oh, yes, you do so know what I’m talking about.’ She throws the tongs into the scalloped potato bowl and follows persistently. ‘I’m talking about Phillip.’
‘Love your dress.’
‘You can have it – think it’ll fit?’
‘Catty. Very catty,’ I say calmly as I try to decide between two different choices of risotto, ‘but I think Alice in Wonderland is more you than me.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Just an observation, that’s all. Don’t burst your stays over it.’
‘You are such a bitch,’ says Elizabeth grimly.
‘Enough about me.’ I turn and look at her brightly.
‘Hey, I must say Phillip is looking rather well, isn’t he?’
‘You’re not having him and that’s that.’
‘That’s good.’ I decide to give both risottos a miss. ‘Because I don’t want him.’
‘Yes, you do!’
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Do so!’
‘Do not!’
‘Do!’
‘Not!’
‘D – are you serious?’
‘Yes, I’m serious. I – don’t – want – your – boyfriend. There, are you happy now?’
‘Do you swear on our father’s grave?’ Elizabeth grabs my hand and I nearly drop my plate. ‘Do you swear?’
‘Hey, watch it! Yes, all right, I swear on our father’s grave.’ I snatch my hand away and glare at her. ‘You’re a psycho.’
‘God, I’m so relieved! I always thought you were aft
er him! Oh, what a relief.’ She holds a hand up to her forehead. ‘I can’t believe it! This makes all the difference.’
‘Well, it still doesn’t mean you have to come over and sit with us,’ I say nastily as I move away from the serving tables and look down at my plate. I’ve got salad, potatoes and bread – no meat. That won’t do. I move back up to the start of the line and begin inching my way forward again in order to add everything that I missed.
‘Why don’t you want him then?’
‘What?’ I turn around and there is Bloody Elizabeth behind me again. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Phillip. Why don’t you want him?’
‘Has your artificial intelligence gone on the blink or something?’ I say incredulously. ‘A few minutes ago you were carrying on about how relieved you were that I didn’t want him!’
‘Yes, but now I just want to know why.’ Elizabeth looks visibly upset. ‘I mean, what’s wrong with him?’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ I repeat, still trying to grasp the conversation. And then it hits me and I look at her with surprise. She wants my opinion. When she thought I was after him that opinion didn’t have to be voiced, because the very fact that I wanted him spoke volumes. But now that I have said that I don’t want him, she is questioning her own judgement – and his worth. I never realised that my approval meant so much.
‘Yes, what’s wrong with him?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with him, Elizabeth,’ I say slowly as I try to think. ‘He’s a great guy. Really great. He’s good-looking, nice, generous, well-employed, well-paid, even presentable in public. Which is a vast improvement on the other strays you’ve brought home. In fact, if you hadn’t been going out with him when we met, maybe I would have made a play for him. But you were, so I didn’t. And I simply don’t think of him that way because, damn it, well – you’re my sister, for god’s sake.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, so Mum says anyway. Though I’ve always had my doubts.’
‘Oh, thank you, Camilla! Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ She throws her arms out and then, as my eyes widen, grins and just squeezes one of my arms. ‘Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me. Thanks.’
