by Ilsa Evans
Still holding my half-filled plate in front of me, I watch her thread her way through the tables towards where Phillip is sitting. She leans over and whispers something in his ear and he gets up, puts his drink down, and follows her into Harold’s house. Well! I do think it would have been polite to have waited until after the reception had finished! As I look back across the guest-strewn garden, I meet my mother’s eyes and flinch involuntarily. But she’s smiling at me. And in fact it’s one of her secretive little ‘I’m proud of you’ smiles that I recognise despite not having received many of them in the last forty years. This is all getting very strange and I’m sure I only took one of those little magic tablets this morning. I smile tentatively back and then break eye contact before I do something to ruin the moment.
By the time I get back to my table, everybody else has helped themselves to food as well and is happily tucking in. The babies are fast asleep, snug in their capsules next to their parents, and Fergus has replenished our glasses yet again. He is being uncharacteristically quiet and I’m guessing he feels a little overwhelmed by our lot. However, the conversation between everybody else is in full swing.
‘But why was the cat called “Ow”, Alex?’ asks Terry interestedly.
‘Because, and you’ll remember this, Cam, because Sam couldn’t say “Meow” properly and that was her shortened version. But you try standing outside at night calling “Ow, Ow, here Ow!” and see how stupid you feel!’
‘Oh, I remember that cat!’ I exclaim as everybody laughs. ‘God, that was years ago!’
‘Those were the days,’ sighs Alex nostalgically. ‘Damn, we had some fun! Cam used to give such good –’
‘Alex!’ I exclaim in horror.
‘I was going to say parties, you know,’ Alex comments dryly as he raises his eyebrows at me. Maggie guffaws while David and Terry break out into hearty laughter. I give them all a filthy look.
‘Did you know,’ says Terry as she tries to get her laughter under control, ‘did you know that on this day in 1542, Catherine Howard was beheaded?’
‘And who’s Catherine Howard when she’s at home?’ asks Fergus of his goddess.
‘She was the fifth wife of Henry VIII – apparently she played around on him.’
‘Like he didn’t,’ I say with disgust. ‘What a hypocrite.’
‘Did you know that eighty percent of men are unfaithful in Australia?’ says David to the company in general.
‘You’re kidding!’ I look at him in astonishment. ‘That seems a bit high.’
‘No wonder I had problems with Dennis,’ comments Terry.
‘Yeah, the other twenty percent travel overseas first!’ Grinning, David delivers his punchline to assorted groans from his audience.
‘Hey, Diane.’ Ignoring her husband, I lean over to get her attention. ‘Did you tell Mum that CJ had nits the other day?’
‘No,’ replies Diane, looking surprised. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say with a sigh. ‘It’s just she always knows everything, yet no one ever tells her. It’s like a sixth-sense demonic perception or something. You know, you can run –’
‘But you can’t hide,’ finishes Diane. ‘I know what you mean. But did you hear what she put in her vows at the church?’
‘No,’ I answer, because I had paid absolutely no attention to anything said at the church after the priest announced that we were gathered there together. ‘I must have missed that part. What was it?’
‘She made this special point of saying that they would be together through this lifetime and the next! And do you know what that means?’
‘Yes, it means that Dad and the other two have now been officially shafted.’
‘That’s right! But at least she won’t be carrying on any more about who she should choose to spend the hereafter with. Harold’s won the jackpot!’
‘Thank heaven for that.’ I pick up my glass and raise it. ‘In fact I think that deserves a toast. Here, to Mum, Harold and the hereafter!’
‘Cheers!’ chorus my companions happily.
‘What are you toasting, darling?’ My mother materialises next to me with her new husband by her side and they smile around the table in general.
‘Oh, just your health and happiness, Mum,’ I say quickly.
‘How thoughtful of you. And how is your poor nose?’
‘Getting there.’
‘Well, is everybody enjoying themselves?’
Everybody nods enthusiastically or comments on the lavishness of the spread, depending on whether their mouth is full or not. Harold beams around at all and sundry.
‘Oh, Mum, Harold, this is Fergus O’Connor,’ I announce grandly, ‘Terry’s boyfriend.’
‘Very pleased to meet you.’ Fergus stands up to shake Harold’s hand.
‘Likewise,’ says Harold, ‘is that right?’
‘You are Terry’s boyfriend?’ says my mother, making no effort to disguise her amazement. ‘Terry, is this correct?’
‘Well, yes,’ says Terry, her face flooding with colour. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Well, I never,’ comments my mother as she continues to look Fergus up and down.
‘Oh, I really love these roses, Mrs Riley – or it’s not Mrs Riley now, is it?’ interjects Maggie diplomatically. ‘What is your new surname?’
‘No, it’s still Riley, dear, I’m keeping my own surname,’ says my mother, surprising everyone at the table except perhaps Harold.
‘Why, that’s very twentieth century of you, Mum,’ I say approvingly.
‘Nothing to do with the century, darling,’ she answers smoothly, ‘it’s simply that Harold’s surname is Ramsbottom and I’ve done my stint on a farm, thank you very much.’
David chokes on a mouthful of food and Diane thumps him energetically on the back. Maggie hides her mouth behind her hand and Fergus just looks confused. And I, well, nothing my mother does surprises me any more.
‘Very sensible, Mum,’ comments Alex, ‘and how lucky you’ve been with the weather! It’s absolutely superb – I’m sure you must know someone up there.’
‘Hey, hey,’ chuckles Harold, obviously appreciative of that little joke.
‘No, it’s simply all in the planning, dear,’ corrects my mother as she takes Harold firmly by the hand. ‘And now we had better go and chat with some of our other guests. Terry, your Fergus seems perfectly lovely. Enjoy yourselves!’
‘Your mother,’ comments David to his wife, ‘is something else.’
‘She certainly is,’ mutters Terry crossly. ‘And she’s got a damn cheek carrying on like that about Fergus!’
‘Oh, never you mind about that,’ says Fergus magnanimously, putting his arm around Terry’s shoulders. ‘It’s a visual thing and it’s only to be expected. See, you’re a goddess and I’m not.’
‘I can’t eat another bite!’ Maggie puts down her fork and sighs deeply. ‘Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I can.’ With that, she picks up the plate, hoists herself out of her chair with some difficulty and heads back over towards the trestle tables.
‘Terry, your Fergus seems perfectly lovely,’ I say in a fairly good imitation of my mother with her clipped tones and raised eyebrows. ‘Hey! I forgot to ask, how did your tennis final go yesterday?’
‘Not good at all. I had a rather off day – we got trounced. And I suppose you’re going to use your nose as the pathetic excuse for your not being there?’
‘Mummy! Are you habing a good time?’ CJ leans against my chair with her back towards Terry and smiles at me with a chocolate-smeared face. ‘Do you like my lubly dress?’
‘I love your lovely dress, CJ, and would you like to say hello to everybody else?’
‘Hello, Auntie Diane. Hello, Uncle Dabid. Hello, Maggie. Hello, Alex. Hello – oh! It’s you, Fergus!’ CJ hunches her shoulders and grins shyly at him. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’
‘Hello, little lass,’ replies Fergus with a smile. ‘I came with your friend Terry here.’
‘CJ!’ I remonstrate quickly, feeling embarrassed. ‘Don’t be so rude!’
‘What?’ CJ puts on her innocent face. ‘What did I do? I only meant that she’s not really my friend – she’s yours.’
‘Sure,’ I say dryly. ‘Look, why don’t you go and wash your face?’
‘In a minute. First, I want to know something.’
‘What is it then?’
‘Now that Grandma and Harold are married, will they hab forty-niners?’
‘What’s a forty-niner?’ I ask with an element of trepidation as I note that everyone at the table has abruptly ceased their conversations in order to listen in. ‘It’s not something rude, is it?’
‘No! Of course not.’
‘Well then, what is it?’
‘You know,’ CJ whispers loudly in my ear.
‘No, actually I don’t.’
‘C’mon, CJ, tell us what a forty-niner is,’ David interjects. ‘I’m dying to find out.’
‘Um, well,’ says CJ shyly as she surveys her audience, ‘you know, it’s when the lady takes off all her clothes and does a handstand in front of the man and he grabs her by the ankles and then starts to –’
‘CJ!’ I clap my hand over her mouth as the table erupts into laughter around me. ‘Where did you hear that?!’
‘Mhmm, mhmm.’
‘Take your hand off her mouth, Cam,’ chortles Diane, ‘the poor kid can’t get a word out.’
‘I’m beginning to think that’s a good thing,’ I reply frowning, but I take my hand away and keep it poised in case the answer proves to be equally graphic.
‘You hurt me, Mummy!’ CJ rubs her mouth and looks at me accusingly. ‘Now my mouth’s all sore!’
‘Okay, okay – but where did you hear about the forty-niner?’
‘I heard it at school. Jaime told us all about it.’
‘You mean Jaime who got her eye poked out at your party?’
‘Yes, she told us all about it. So, will Grandma and Harold be doing that now?’
‘Hopefully not right now, CJ,’ says Terry, looking thoughtfully over towards where Harold and my mother are chatting with Auntie Emma and her numerous brood.
‘CJ, I promise that I’ll explain later. In private. And in the meantime, let’s keep forty-niners to ourselves, shall we? And you can go and wash your mouth.’
‘Why, is it berry rude?’ CJ asks me wide-eyed, rubbing her mouth. ‘Am I being punished?’
‘No, I don’t mean wash your mouth out, I mean just wash your mouth. It’s got chocolate all over it.’
‘Well, I’m going back to sit at my table! They don’t try and hurt me and they neber tell me anything to do!’ And CJ flounces off, in a dress that was just made for flouncing, leaving everybody at the table in varying stages of hilarity.
‘Now I know what’s missing from our marriage.’ David turns to his wife and raises his eyebrows suggestively. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘If you mean CJ, then I can help you out,’ I offer generously.
‘No thanks,’ says Diane with conviction. ‘Fond as I am of that child, my boys and the twins are more than enough at the moment.’
‘A friend of mine has three-year-old twins,’ I say thoughtfully, remembering poor Caron at the supermarket on Thursday. ‘And if yours grow into anything like those two, you won’t have room for anything else. Except perhaps some counselling.’
‘Actually, that’s not quite what I meant,’ interjects David, who obviously won’t be sidetracked. ‘So how are you at handstands, oh love of my life?’
‘You’re not likely to find out,’ Diane replies dismissively, ‘so don’t get your hopes up, sport.’
‘Do you know, I’m very good at handstands,’ muses Fergus out loud.
‘Thanks but no thanks, mate. You do nothing for me,’ replies David.
‘I didn’t mean you!’ splutters Fergus as everyone starts to laugh again. ‘I meant – well, I meant . . .’
‘God! I haven’t laughed that much for a long time!’ Alex leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath. ‘Just imagine your mother – and Harold!’
‘No thanks,’ Diane and I reply in unison, and with considerable feeling.
‘Do you remember what sixty-niners are, my love?’ asks David as he pulls his wife’s chair a little closer.
‘Hmm, I think I should be taking notes,’ says Maggie. ‘In my line of work it pays to be up with the latest trends. Do you think I can hire CJ as a consultant?’
I merely raise an eyebrow.
‘Will you take your hand away!’ Diane removes her husband’s roving hand from her lap region and they start to tussle. ‘Get some control of yourself!’
‘Come on, let’s have a quickie!’ David laughs as he grabs both Diane’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap.
‘A quickie? As opposed to what?’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be a good look, anyway.’ Terry ignores them and turns to me. ‘All that gravity and everything.’
‘True,’ I reply thoughtfully, ‘but I blame the fitness craze. We never used to be quite so aerobic when I was young.’
‘More’s the pity,’ says Alex with a leer.
‘Oh, well. Hey, did your daughter ever arrive back with my car?’ I inquire of Terry in an effort to change the subject. ‘Because it occurs to me that I shall be needing it at some stage.’
‘Yes, she’s over there, next to Phillip and Elizabeth. Look, I think Phillip’s going to say something.’ Terry points over to the archway where the best man had made his speech and we all look over. Sure enough, Phillip is clinking a spoon against his glass and clearing his throat. Next to him, my mother stands beaming from ear to ear. This does not look good.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention for a moment please? Thank you. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Phillip Carver and I’ve been going out with Rose’s daughter, Elizabeth, for quite some time now. Well, Rose has convinced us to take advantage of this gathering and make an announcement of our own.’ At this point Phillip reaches out and pulls Elizabeth to her feet. He puts an arm around her and continues: ‘I would like to let you all know that I have asked Beth to marry me and she has finally accepted – so it gives me great pleasure to therefore announce our engagement!’
The wedding guests break out into cheers and whistles as Phillip turns to Bloody Elizabeth and gives her a rather prolonged kiss. She blushes fiercely but clings on to him for dear life. While everyone is still clapping and cheering (and, next to me, Alex seems to be clapping extra hard), I catch sight of Maggie watching me closely from over at the serving tables. I grin at her and hold my drink up in a sort of salute. She grins as well and then turns back to the food.
‘In that case, can I have your attention as well?’ My nephew Nicholas is also on his feet and holding up a glass. Next to him stands Bronte, looking absolutely stunning and blushing almost as fiercely as Elizabeth. My heart sinks because it doesn’t take much to guess what’s coming. I involuntarily glance at Terry’s face – it is frozen in disbelief and all the laughter has totally vanished, and next to her Diane’s is just the same. The only one without a clue is David, who is looking at his twenty-year-old son with a puzzled frown on his face.
‘We would also like to use this occasion to make an announcement of our own. And you’ve probably guessed what it is – Bronte and I have decided to get married as well!’ Nick looks around proudly while the cheering and clapping start up again. He puts his arm around Bronte and then looks straight across at his parents. Who aren’t cheering, or clapping. Or doing much of anything, in fact.
‘I’m going over there to talk to her,’ Terry says grimly as she gets up from her seat.
‘And so are we.’ Diane grabs David by the hand and follows.
‘Well, I’m staying out of it,’ says Fergus emphatically, ‘but I might be stepping out for a wee smoke. Anyone care to join me?’
Alex and I both shake our h
eads and Fergus departs in the direction of the picket gate. I reach over and pick up one of the open champagne bottles on the table and pour myself a fresh glass.
‘Thanks for taking the kids to McDonald’s last night,’ I say as I pass the bottle over to Alex. ‘It was much appreciated.’
‘No problem. Did you get a good sleep?’
‘Very. And I never said thank you for the flowers either, did I?’
‘No, you didn’t,’ he comments as he pours himself a refill, ‘but I forgive you. There was a hell of a lot going on that day.’
‘There certainly was. So, speaking of Linnet, tell me – what’s the go?’
‘God, you’re persistent! If you had been this persistent when we were together, I don’t reckon we’d ever have got divorced!’ He catches sight of my face and then hurriedly continues: ‘Well, if you must know, Linnet and I met about a year or so ago and started going out. She worked for my firm over there. Anyway, so when she asked me to marry her –’
‘She asked you to marry her?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘I’m beginning to like her now,’ I comment, especially as it’s a lot easier to admire the woman when she’s out of the picture.
‘Well, whatever. Anyway, so I thought okay, that sounds like a good idea. But then my contract ran out and Maggie rang and read me the riot act about neglecting the kids – and she was right. And I really should apologise to you. I never really meant to be away that long – it’s just one thing led to another.’
‘That’s okay,’ I say politely, even though it’s not.
‘No, it’s not. I left the whole kit and caboodle up to you. But then when I heard you’d remarried, well, I thought it might be better if I did stay away. And, to be honest, it would have been hard to get work in Australia at that stage.’
‘Okay, enough already!’ I say impatiently. ‘Tell me about Linnet!’
‘Okay, okay. Well, when Maggie rang about the kids and you – I mean, the kids – I applied for the job over here in management and started having second thoughts about getting married. I suppose I wanted a fresh start with the kids and that’d be pretty difficult with a new wife along. Also, we got on great over there and it was fun and all, but the thought of settling down with her – well, no. So I told her I wanted a few months to think things over and came back here. And the rest you know.’
