by Ilsa Evans
Oh, and try not to run yourself ragged, take a bit of R & R whenever you can, you’ll need it.’
‘Oh. My. God.’
FRIDAY
6.30 pm
BANG. I thump the gavel down with gusto and loudly call everybody to order. It’s my turn to be adjudicator, which is always a blessing in disguise as Ben hates doing it and usually sulks, and the girls both adore it and generally turn into power-crazed little Nazis. I look around the table, from Ben, who is lounging back in his chair trying to look ultra-casual (and not having a great deal of success), to Samantha, who is sipping her tea with an ominously full-looking writing pad in front of her, to CJ, who is squirming around impatiently while she waits for her turn to speak. It’s time for our family meeting, where pocket money gets doled out and everyone gets to air their grievances and share their successes. Unfortunately, the grievances always far outweigh the successes.
‘Okay, CJ, you can go first.’
‘She always goes first!’
‘Any grievances must wait till your turn, Ben. Go ahead, CJ.’
‘I don’t like Ben yelling at me, and I want my whistle back, and I want a lizard for Christmas and also roller-blades and a Winnie-the-Pooh treehouse and a new Barbie, coz Ben’s fish died in mine.’ CJ turns to glare at her totally innocent brother and then continues quickly before her turn can be declared over: ‘And I want a funny pillow like Caitlin’s got and I also want a swimming pool that you can drown in and I also want –’
‘All those things you can put in a letter to Santa, CJ, and I’d try adding please if I were you. That whistle stays confiscated till next weekend when you visit Daddy and then you can practise with him. It can be a special Daddy whistle. As for Ben yelling at you, well, Ben, could you please try to be more patient, she is only five, and, CJ, you could try to act a bit less brattish to your brother. Now, is that it from you?’
‘Why’re all the pets dying?’
‘Oh, um, just one of those things.’
‘It’s not that disease thing that Sam said was out there? The midnight one?’
‘No, of course not.’ I give Sam an exasperated look. ‘Sam was only trying to be funny.’
‘But Golliwog’s sick as well.’
‘Oh, the cat’s just got a little tummy bug – she’ll be fine.’
‘Why were you hugging Ben today?’
‘Pardon?’ I glance at Ben who is staring at me suspiciously, as if I had managed to sneak in some tactile expressions of my affection without him realising. ‘When did I hug Ben?’
‘At kinder. Today. You know.’
‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Ben wasn’t even at kinder.’
‘Not that Ben.’ CJ looks at me impatiently. ‘Ben at kinder, you were hugging him when you left.’
‘Oh, him! The little boy? I didn’t even know his name was Ben. I was only hugging him because he was lonely. He hasn’t got many friends.’
‘He has so got lots of friends. And he’s got a penis.’
I duck as Samantha spits a mouthful of tea straight across the table.
‘Well, he does. He told me so.’
I bang the gavel down. ‘Okay, moving on. CJ, we’ll have a little chat later, remind me. Sam, could you grab a cloth and clean up. Ben, your turn.’
‘I’m fine. Nothing to say. Except that CJ is a major pest. And Samantha spilt milk all over my school jumper on Monday and you didn’t say anything. And Golliwog is sick. She spewed all over my maths homework. And I have no fish at all now.’
‘Yep, okay. And please don’t say “spewed”. It’s a disgusting word. But how’s school going? Up to date with everything?’
‘Oh. Yeah well, there’s a thing due um, soon … and another in … but I redid that other thing. Um, new book … almost done, and …’ Benjamin proceeds to lapse into pure mumble for a while before becoming understandable again, ‘… and that’s all. Sam’s turn.’
I resolve to put aside some time next week to go through his books to ascertain what’s due and what’s not, what’s done and what is simply too ridiculous to be handed in anyway. But I think I’ll leave his maths homework well alone. For now, I bang the gavel down again.
‘Samantha’s turn.’
‘Well, I just wanted to say that I have absolutely no complaints, no grievances and no problems at all.’ She sits back and smiles at me. I am dumbfounded. Samantha usually talks for at least twenty minutes and has a variety of grievances which each require individual and lengthy negotiation. Apart from anything else, I was expecting a full-on assault regarding the belly-button ring.
‘Pull up your top.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Pull up your top, I want to see your navel.’
‘To each their own.’ She shrugs and pulls up her jumper to expose a neat, naked navel. ‘I really think you sooo need to get a boyfriend, Mommie dearest.’
I look at her suspiciously. She smiles sweetly back. My maternal bones tell me that something is definitely up but I don’t know exactly what. I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth and simply accept that tonight’s meeting is going to be a short one. I bang the gavel again.
‘Well then, it’s my turn. Firstly, pocket money.’ I open my purse and dole out varying amounts according to age and work done around the house. The money disappears as soon as it hits each outstretched hand. ‘And can someone please bring the rubbish bins in after this, they’ve been out there since Wednesday.
‘Now secondly, I am having a little bit of time off work so I shall be around the house a lot more for a couple of weeks. This doesn’t mean that I’m here for your beck and call, but simply that I needed a little rest. Understood? Good. Thirdly, I have confirmed that, yes, Sam and Ben’s father has purchased the house next door but he won’t be moving in for quite some time – not until February, in fact – so this doesn’t mean that when it becomes empty next month, it’s automatically your private property. You are to keep away until your father moves in, understood? Good. Fourthly, as you have all noticed, the lounge-room windows were broken during that rainstorm on Wednesday and so they have been cardboarded up. Please do not fiddle with the cardboard, or draw on it, or remove the sticky-tape, or even go near it at all. It’ll be getting repaired in a couple of weeks and until then is strictly out of bounds. Understood? Good.
‘Now, fif – lastly, there is going to be a barbecue on Sunday.’ I hold up my hand to forestall any comments on the inadvisability of having a barbecue in winter. ‘Everybody has barbecues in summer – we are different. Now, Auntie Diane and Uncle David are coming, I’m not sure about the boys, and they have a very big announcement to make.’ I’m not going to mention the twins (twins! I’m still in shock!) because I promised Diane, but I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions on Sunday.
‘Then if we’re having a barbecue, can I ask Sara over?’
‘Then I want Caitlin. Can I have Caitlin, Mummy?’
‘Then I’m busy Sunday.’
‘You can ask one guest each but, really, it’s a family barbecue. Ben, I need the barbecue cleaned. Sam, I need the backyard mowed and you’ve already been paid for it, and CJ … I’ll think of something for you later. Now, I also invited Aunt Maggie when I dropped in at her house yesterday for coffee.’ I surreptitiously glance at Samantha to see how she takes this and am suitably rewarded by the sight of her mouth dropping open in surprise.
I am beginning to enjoy myself so continue quickly before there can be any interruptions: ‘Sam, could you give Aunt Elizabeth a call tonight, you can ask her as well. I don’t think she’s ever been here so you’d better give her the address. You can also ask her if she’d like to bring her new boyfriend. He’s a vet.’ I look around and am gratified to see three open mouths now. ‘So, Ben, if Golliwog is still sick by Sunday, you can ask him to have a look at her. And actually, CJ, I do have a job for you. You can ring Grandma and ask her if she would like to come as well. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Yes, well, if she ca
n come, you can ask her to bring her new boyfriend too, so that you can all meet him. His name is Harold and they’re getting married next year. In February. Sam and CJ will be the flower-girls. With matching outfits too, in pink, I believe.’
I am now sitting opposite three totally flabbergasted children, the eldest of whom has had a total aversion to pink for almost a decade now. ‘Well, that’s it, meeting adjourned.’ I bang the gavel and sit back to watch them. They are so stunned that they are temporarily mute, a rare situation that I am sure will not last so I resolve to enjoy it while I can. I mean to say, who needs orgasms? This is what I call pure pleasure.
FRIDAY
8.30 pm
I have put out French onion dip, crackers and plenty of celery (all low fat, especially the celery), and am just contemplating putting some champagne in the fridge when the doorbell rings. It’ll have to be chateau cask then.
When I open the front door I am faced with a newspaper (that newspaper) held at my head height. This means that I can easily see Terry over the top of the newspaper. She has her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, no make-up and looks positively radiant. From around the newspaper I can see that she is dressed casually in a blue microfibre tracksuit very similar to mine – except that it makes her look like a serious athlete. I make a mental note to ditch mine, or at least never to wear it when she is likely to wear hers. Perhaps I should just invest in some kaftans. She hands me her jacket and then shakes the newspaper in the air.
‘Would you care to explain this?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘I go away for three days, three days, and you turn to crime. What would happen if I shifted interstate?’
‘Are you?’ I ask as I steady the hat-stand with one hand while hanging up her jacket.
‘No, of course not.’ Terry gives me a strange look and follows me into the lounge-room. ‘Yum, munchies! Where’s the champers?’
‘No champers, sorry. You’ll have to make do with cask, I’m afraid.’ I head off to the kitchen, fill two glasses and return to hand one to her and flop myself down on the couch opposite. ‘Why, are we celebrating something?’
‘No, you first. I mean, I spoke to Barbara Sullivan today and she filled me in on most of it but, tell me, is it really true that Joanne attacked you?’ Terry flicks the ponytail off her shoulder and settles back with her glass of wine in one hand and a dip-laden cracker in the other.
‘All true. I know she’s always been a little nuts, but this was amazing. You should have seen it. She was upset because I wasn’t here when she was supposed to pick me up – even though I never arranged it – and when I turned up in town she went bananas. It’s totally her fault that I bopped that cop on the head. I reckon she pinched my jumper too. I hope she gets fired.’
‘God, how weird.’
‘You should have been there.’
‘No thanks. But, do you know, I feel a little bit sorry for her.’
‘What? How can you! I’ve been charged because of her!’ I am amazed, I mean I am the victim here. Anything Joanne gets she totally deserves (except my jumper, that is).
‘No, I know that. And I know she’s a bit … well, intense, but –’
‘Intense? She’s totally off the beaten track!’
‘Oh, she is not! Well, not that bad anyway. Do you know, I’ve never quite understood why you’re so really set against her. I mean it – she’s not that bad.’
‘Easy for you to say! She didn’t try to kill you!’
‘Yeah, okay. But she’s the one who’ll find it hard to get another job. No doubt you’ll get reinstated as soon as it blows over but I don’t reckon she will. They’ll grab this chance to get rid of her and the library was her life. I don’t think she has much else, do you? Actually, I think that’s half the problem. I reckon she’s always been a bit jealous of you – busy life, friends, family, kids and all that.’
‘She can have it.’
‘You don’t mean that. Besides, I’m serious. It’s more than jealousy, too. You know, she was always sidling up to you and trying to start conversations, asking how your kids are, or what you’re doing on the weekend, hinting for an invite over … whatever. And you didn’t exactly hide the fact that you didn’t care for her much. Not at all. She probably thought that Monday was finally her chance to impress you with her personality –’
‘Yeah! She sure did that!’
‘… and so to her it may have been a pretty big deal and she was probably really, really looking forward to driving in with you, and when you just selfishly stood her up –’Terry grins and holds her hand up to stop me interrupting again, ‘well, that’s probably how she sees it, fair or not. And then you turn up, casual, relaxed, carrying shopping bags, and obviously not in the least apologetic. So she lost it.’
‘Okay, great. Now I feel guilty.’ And I do. I hadn’t really thought of it that way. I get up and take the glasses out to the kitchen to refill them, and drink half of mine just on the way back to the couch.
‘Oh, don’t feel guilty, for god’s sake. You feel guilty too often already. I didn’t mean that you did anything wrong, you didn’t – and she’s still only got herself to blame. All I meant was I felt sorry for her, that’s all. And she’s not that bad. But I still like your picture.’ She turns the newspaper over and has another look. ‘Do you know, I’ve never realised that you have such a homicidal gleam – and a really weird chin.’
‘Shut up. Back to Joanne. I tell you, she worries me a bit. She was really scary.’
‘Was she? I can’t imagine it.’
‘Well, you can take my word for it. And you can also do me a favour.’
‘What’s that?’
‘While you’re at work on Monday, can you try and find out what she’s up to?’
‘Wow! She really has got you nervous, hasn’t she?’
‘Yeah, she has. Seriously.’
‘Okay, no problem.’
‘Great. And now enough about bloody Joanne. What about you? Bronte came around and said that she caught you frolicking in the bath with a certain dentist who shall remain nameless.’
‘Ha! It was worth it just to see the look on her face! Do you know, I swear she thinks she was a virgin birth.’ Terry’s own face breaks into a huge grin as she recalls it.
‘Then you did! In the bath! And with Dennis!’
‘Sure did, and he was just as good as I remember. Even better, if anything.’ She closes her eyes briefly and sighs, looking for all the world like the cat that got the proverbial cream. ‘A performance worthy of a post-coital cigar.’
‘Too much information. So, are you getting back together?’
‘Dork! Do I look totally deranged? Of course we’re not. I just really needed a fling and, for once, he was in the right place at the right time for me, and not some other bimbo.’
‘Other than you, you mean.’
‘Ha ha.’
‘I still don’t get it. Last time I saw you, you were off to work on Monday as usual. Despised Dennis as usual, and had no plans for … what did Bronte call it? “unadulterated sex and unbridled passion”. What happened?’
‘Toothache, that’s what happened! I had this raging toothache Sunday night that was so bad I finally rang Dennis and left a message on his machine asking him to come over and have a look. Anyway, I rang in sick Monday and then Dennis turns up. Apparently he’s on holidays and has booked a place up at Daylesford for the week. Taking the water and all that. But whichever bimbo he was taking must have cancelled. He didn’t actually say that but it was pretty obvious. So, we drive over to his surgery, fix the tooth – see?’ At this point she opens her mouth and shows me a newly filled gleaming tooth. ‘And then he takes me home. Well, I don’t know whether it was the painkillers or just pent-up frustration, but he started looking really attractive. Sooo, one thing led to another, and another, and then another – he has amazing stamina for his age, probably steroids or something – and then we were having a bath when Bronte waltzed in.’
‘I would love to have seen her face.’
‘It was priceless. Anyway, that’s where it would all have ended except that she made such a song and dance about how disgusting it was that when he said why don’t I go to Daylesford with him, I said yes. I had second thoughts while I was packing some stuff together and I tried to ring you for some sage advice but you were gallivanting around somewhere. So I thought, well, stuff it, and I just went.’
‘So you’re not getting back together?’
‘No way. I don’t think he’d want to either. It was fun for a bit and that’s it. In fact, it had already stopped being fun by Thursday morning, which is why I came back early. I can only take so much unbridled passion at my age. And only so much of that mineral water as well. It was more to spite Bronte than anything else but, I tell you, I feel so good that I might make it an annual event!’
‘Well, why not? And you look good too, maybe that’s what I need.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. Now you know what the answer is: just drag an ex-husband into the sack for a while. Better the body you know and all that. But, in your case, I don’t recommend the second ex, stick to the first. You’ll have to get him back from OS.’
‘He is coming back.’ I get up, grab both our glasses for refills and then put them back down as I decide it’ll be easier to bring the cask out here. So I do exactly that, fill the glasses and take a sip before continuing: ‘You wouldn’t believe what an eventful week I’ve had! One of the things that’s happened – just one of the things, mind – is finding out that not only is Alex coming back, but he’s shifting next door.’
‘Next door to you?’
‘Yep. Right next door.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘No, I’m not. I was really upset at first, but now I’m getting rather used to the idea. But the worst is that he doesn’t know. He asked his sister to buy a house in the area, so she did. Although I’m not sure whether this was quite the area he had in mind!’
‘But how did you find out then?’
