Odd Socks

by Ilsa Evans

  Resisting the urge to instruct him to fling it out the nearest window, I lead Sven over to the card table where the gifts have all been piled. Sven deposits the plant onto the floor and I bob down to push it in a little closer so it can’t present a danger to anybody passing. With it on one side and that old harridan on the other, it’ll be like I’ve provided some sort of macabre party game – a guest quest. And I’m sure this is the same plant I gave Stephen. I’d recognise it anywhere. It probably tried to devour some of his friends so he’s decided to get rid of it. But one thing’s for sure, I’m not letting Bronte take it with her – I’m way too fond of that baby to risk her becoming plant food.

  ‘Come on.’ I stand up and turn to Stephen and Sven. ‘I’ll get you both a drink.’

  ‘Oh, and sorry we’re late,’ says Stephen with a coy grin as he follows me into the kitchen area. ‘We slept in.’

  ‘No problem.’ I lean against the island bench. ‘What would you like? Beer, wine or champagne – or something non-alcoholic?’

  ‘Champagne for me, and –?’ Stephen turns to Sven, who nods. ‘Make that two.’

  ‘Two champagnes coming up,’ Harold says cheerfully, ‘is that right?’

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’ Rose, who had been peering out of the kitchen window towards the grotto, turns and picks up a plate, holding it out towards us. ‘Fairy-cakes?’

  ‘How apt, schnooks!’ says Stephen, taking one with evident delight.

  ‘Pardon?’ asks Rose with a frown.

  ‘Here, guys.’ I grab Stephen by the arm and usher him over to the table before he can explain. ‘You remember my mother, don’t you, Stephen?’

  ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘Well, the others are my brother, Tom, Uncle Laurie, and Aunt June. And everybody – this is my neighbour Stephen and his friend Sven.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ says Tom with his American twang as he stands to shake their hands. The others do likewise and, within moments, Stephen and Sven are ensconced at the table and looking happy. Harold brings two glasses of champagne over and deposits them with a smile as he is thanked profusely.

  ‘Oh, and it’s Stephen with a “ph”, not a “v”.’ Stephen looks around the table.

  ‘Ah,’ says Mum with a wise nod, ‘of course.’

  ‘And so you’re from America?’ Stephen turns to my brother. ‘Are you over here on holidays?’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Mum answers for him as she takes hold of Tom’s hand, ‘and I wish he wasn’t going back. Those Kleenex Clan over there really worry me.’

  ‘Sherry,’ calls Rose from over in the kitchen, ‘stop teasing Teresa! You know perfectly well what they’re called and that Tom’s in no danger.’

  ‘What?’ I look at my mother in confusion, but she just giggles behind her hand and blushes a bit.

  ‘I had a dream,’ says Stephen, with a reminiscent look on his face, ‘all about those Klu Klux guys once. Dreadful, absolutely dreadful.’

  ‘It would have been,’ says Uncle Laurie, nodding sympathetically.

  ‘Oh, but not as bad as the dream I had the other night!’ Stephen looks wide-eyed around at his audience. ‘Just let me tell you about this one! There I was on a trampoline and . . .’

  I exit stage left and Nick almost immediately calls to me.

  ‘Hey, Mil! Come over here and meet my boss from the garage. And his wife.’

  ‘Hello.’ I shake hands with a white-haired elderly man and his wife as they nod a polite greeting. Then the man frowns slightly as he peers at me a little more closely.

  ‘Do I know you?’ he asks in a gravelly voice. ‘You look familiar.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I reply, although I do have a sneaking feeling I’ve seen him somewhere before.

  ‘You know what it’ll be,’ says his wife, snapping her fingers, ‘you’ve probably seen each other at Christmas, that’s what it’ll be! You know, dear, my Joe dresses up as Santa every Christmas for the kids down at the mall.’

  ‘Really?’ I smile as I spot Cam walking past in the direction of the French doors. ‘Hey, Cam! Come here and listen to this!’

  ‘Hello.’ Cam joins the group and is introduced around by Nick.

  ‘And,’ I add, after all the handshaking is finished, ‘Joe here dresses up as Santa every Christmas for the children down at the mall! Isn’t that fantastic?’

  ‘Yep,’ says Cam, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Twenty-six years now,’ says Joe’s wife proudly.

  ‘Twenty-six years now,’ agrees Joe.

  ‘I think that’s wonderful,’ I comment, ‘and I’m sure Cam does too. She’s a sucker for Santa.’

  ‘That’s lovely, dear,’ enthuses Joe’s wife admiringly. ‘Too many of you girls think you’re beyond the magic of Christmas. It’s nice to see someone who still gets into the spirit of things.’

  I ignore the look Cam sends me as I leave and head over towards the French doors again. As soon as I open them I notice that Phillip has deserted Maggie in favour of shoving his chair in between Dennis and Elizabeth. Ah, trust! I slide into my seat and pick up my champagne to have a sip.

  ‘All sorted?’ asks Richard politely.

  ‘Yes,’ I smile at him. ‘Bronte, that’s my daughter, seems to have everything under control. So – are you enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Actually, yes.’ Richard sounds a bit startled as he gazes around the table. ‘Nice bunch. Very kind.’

  ‘I’m going to kill you,’ Cam hisses in my ear as she passes.

  ‘Gross!’ I pat the side of my hair and then examine my fingers fastidiously. ‘You’re still dribbling!’

  ‘Really kill you!’ she calls as she sits down between Alex and Richard again.

  ‘You were saying?’ I look at Richard with a grin. ‘About them being kind?’

  ‘Ah, apart from the homicidal tendencies, that is.’

  I look at him, pleasantly surprised he has come out with yet another fairly long sentence. He grins back, focusing somewhere around my left earlobe and then, while I’m watching him, slides his gaze slowly up until we make eye contact. He flushes, but holds the gaze. After a few seconds, I look away and down at my glass instead.

  ‘Hey, Cam,’ says Elizabeth sweetly, looking at her sister with a smile. ‘I hear you had an interesting experience with a guinea pig the other night.’

  ‘What!’ shrieks Cam, looking from Elizabeth to Phillip to me, and then narrowing her eyes threateningly. ‘Now, I’m really going to kill you!’

  ‘Not fair!’ I hold up my hands in mock surrender, glad of the distraction. ‘I didn’t say anything!’

  ‘What’s this?’ asks David with interest. ‘What’s our Cam done now?’

  ‘Beth,’ says Phillip, frowning at his beloved, ‘come on.’

  ‘Don’t tell me she killed it?’ Alex looks down at Cam and shakes his head ruefully. ‘Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have pets.’

  ‘No, she didn’t kill it,’ says Elizabeth, still smiling across the table at Cam. ‘She just thought it was giving birth, that’s all.’

  ‘And it wasn’t?’ asks Maggie, looking puzzled.

  ‘No, it couldn’t have been –’ Elizabeth pauses as she prepares for the punchline ‘– because it was a boy! Just a little old frustrated boy who was trying to enjoy himself!’

  ‘Then why did you think . . .’ Alex, who was looking at Cam curiously, trails off as the rest of the guys start laughing and Maggie rocks the table with a guffaw.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ says Joanne, frowning.

  ‘It’s like this.’ Fergus leans over and whispers into her ear. Her eyes widen and then she starts laughing too.

  ‘I don’t think it’s all that funny,’ states Diane, looking with sisterly disapproval at Elizabeth. ‘So she thought it was a girl, so what?’

  ‘True.’ Alex glances down at Cam, who is staring at her sister expressionlessly while she plays with the stem of her champagne flute. ‘And it could have been worse. Imagine if she�
��d decided to assist the birth manually!’

  This observation breaks up the company once more. David and Fergus double up with laughter while Joanne puzzles that one out and Diane tries not to grin. Elizabeth just smiles serenely at Cam, and Cam looks evenly back. I glance up to see what reaction Richard is having to this fun and frivolity and note that he is watching the three sisters with a small half-smile on his face. It obviously hasn’t taken him long to pick up on the vibes.

  ‘Oh lord!’ Dennis looks up towards the ceiling. ‘In my next life let me come back as Camilla’s guinea pig – please!’

  ‘To be sure, you wouldn’t be saying that if she’d decided on a forceps delivery,’ Fergus points out. ‘And she’d be having to use her eyebrow pluckers!’

  ‘Well, you pack of idiots, she didn’t assist the birth,’ I say loudly, lying through my teeth, ‘and I can vouch for that because I was there too. What’s more, I thought the same thing she did. So you see, it might sound funny but it’s not that stupid a mistake to make.’

  ‘No,’ says Cam, flashing me an appreciative grin. ‘And let’s leave it there, shall we? I now officially hate guinea pigs.’

  ‘They’re really called cavies,’ instructs Phillip pedantically.

  ‘Don’t care what they’re called,’ replies Cam, taking a careful sip of wine. ‘Hate them anyway.’

  ‘Never been one for guinea pigs personally,’ says Fergus to Joanne, ‘but we were having rabbits one time when I was a youngster. Ah, but they were lovely little fluffy things. Would you like to be hearing the story of our rabbits, then?’

  I watch the two of them thoughtfully as Fergus launches into his rabbit story, which I’ve heard several times. I’m going to have to have a talk with Fergus at some stage – just not now. At least he seems to be enjoying himself talking to Joanne, who can be good company when she leaves all the New Age stuff alone. Today she’s wearing a deep-purple pantsuit, so I’m not sure what that means. But if the glow on her face is anything to go by, it means happiness. I must remember to ask her later what’s making her so happy.

  ‘That your boyfriend?’ asks Richard, looking in the same direction as me.

  ‘Yes,’ I answer truthfully as I pick a few white petals out of my champagne.

  ‘Serious?’

  ‘Um . . .’ I look at Fergus and chew my lip thoughtfully. ‘Um . . .’

  ‘Ah. And the other guy?’

  ‘What other guy?’

  ‘Big guy – blonde.’ Richard looks towards the house. ‘Inside.’

  ‘Tom?’ I look at Richard with astonishment. ‘He’s my brother!’

  ‘Your brother?’ Richard smiles and takes a sip of wine. ‘Ah, brother.’

  ‘Yes – my brother. He’s over from America.’ I decide to ask a few questions of my own. ‘And what about Joanne?’

  ‘What about her?’ Richard looks at me curiously and then raises his eyebrows and grins. ‘Ah! You think – we’re together?’

  ‘Well, it had crossed my mind,’ I say defensively.

  ‘No,’ he laughs. ‘I mean . . . no!’

  ‘Oh.’ I think for a bit. ‘But weren’t you staying with her?’

  ‘No,’ he replies, still smiling. ‘Stayed in a motel. Except last night.’

  ‘Last night!’ I repeat in a high-pitched voice. ‘Last night?’

  ‘Stayed with Rose and Harold,’ he explains, the smile sliding off his face. ‘Long night.’

  ‘Oh,’ I grin with relief, ‘so why did you? Stay with Rose, I mean.’

  ‘She asked,’ Richard replies simply, examining his fingernails.

  ‘Well, that was nice of you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know –’ I turn around in my chair until I’m facing Richard fully, and then wait patiently until he makes eye contact ‘– having a conversation with you is like pulling teeth. Is it me? I mean, if you’d rather we not talk, I don’t mind. Really.’

  ‘No!’ Richard looks aghast. ‘No – I want to talk! It’s not you. It’s me.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes – see, I’m not very good with this.’ He pauses as he looks around the noisy table. ‘With all this.’

  ‘Really?’ I try to sound astonished at this revelation.

  ‘Yes.’ Richard looks glum. ‘Never have been.’

  ‘Oh.’ I look at his downcast face and am flooded with sympathy. ‘Never mind. As long as I know you want to talk, that’s fine.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Sure it is,’ I smile at him confidently. ‘So tell me then, what do you think of your newfound family?’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Ah.’ Richard looks around the table. ‘Nice lot. Loud.’

  ‘Overwhelming?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know how you feel,’ I say with a smile as I survey them as well, ‘but they really are a great bunch. Especially Cam. She’s probably my best friend, and she’s really good value. When you get to know her. Do you think you will?’ I turn to look at him again. ‘Get to know her, that is.’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Richard looks across the table at Cam briefly. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What about Rose?’

  ‘Ah.’ He focuses on my right eyebrow and then sighs. ‘She wants more than I can give. A lot more.’

  ‘In what way?’ I ask with interest, although I suspect I know exactly what he is referring to. ‘Do you mean like a mother-son relationship?’

  ‘Yes. Exactly.’ Richard slides his gaze down to make eye contact. ‘And it’s too late. Not that I have any ill feelings towards her. Not at all. Because if she’d taken me with her as a baby, well, I’d probably have been shoved from pillar to post and been the odd one out when she married again. As it was, I had a great childhood. Really great. Spoilt rotten by two bachelor uncles and a grandmother and grandfather who couldn’t do enough for me. Grew up thinking I was the centre of the universe.’

  ‘Wow,’ I say with surprise, more with regard to his sudden verbosity than to his great childhood.

  ‘But I’m pleased I’ve met them.’ Richard looks around the table again. ‘Much more pleased than I thought I’d be. Just that I’ve already got a family.’

  ‘Your childhood was that good, was it?’

  ‘Idyllic,’ he replies emphatically.

  ‘And I believe you’re a doctor now?’

  ‘Doctor of philosophy,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Big difference. Just a glorified teacher.’

  I smile at him and he smiles back. I notice his eyes have started that disconcerting twinkle again, and it sends a surge of warm pleasure through me. But the warm pleasure is quickly followed by warm embarrassment and I glance around the tables to see if anyone has noticed what, to me, seems so evident. However, they all seem intent on their various conversations – except, that is, for Dennis. He is leaning forward in his chair with his chin in one hand and observing me with interest. As our eyes meet, he raises his eyebrows and looks from me to Richard and then back again. I return his gaze evenly and we proceed to engage in one of those staring contests which tacitly acknowledge that whoever drops their gaze first is guilty –of something. I know from experience that I usually win.

  ‘I’ve just remembered where I know you from!’

  I break eye contact with Dennis and look over towards the house, where the elderly gentleman, Nick’s boss, is leaning out of the opened French doors. He points at me and grins.

  ‘Monday night. At the picnic grounds. At around eight o’clock. You were asleep in your car, remember?’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Knew I’d seen you before,’ he says smugly, ‘knew it.’

  I watch as he shuts the doors again and disappears inside, no doubt pleased he has solved that little mystery. I quickly look up towards Fergus, who’s paused in his ongoing story of the rabbits and is looking at me with surprise. I flush and look away.

  ‘Often fall asleep in your car?’ asks Richard curiously.

  ‘Not often.’ I rotat
e my glass slowly to make the wine slop around inside. ‘And what were we talking about before? Tasmania, that was it. So, are your family all still there?’

  ‘Grandfather died about fifteen years ago. But my grandmother’s still there. Same house. With my uncles.’ Richard smiles and warms to his theme. ‘She’s ninety-six years old and they’re both in their seventies, but she still cooks all their meals, irons their gear, and probably makes their beds! And rules the roost!’

  ‘She sounds great,’ I grin at him. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

  ‘Then do,’ Richard says in a low voice as he turns to face me again. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Richard flushes and fiddles with his glass.

  ‘What did you say?’ I ask, stunned.

  ‘Nothing. Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Yes it does.’

  ‘No it doesn’t. Actually –’ Richard unfolds himself and then looks around the table in general ‘– have to excuse me. People to see before I go.’

  Chewing my lip, I watch him drain his wine and then, taking the glass with him, disappear through the French doors. Did he really say he was going? When is he going? Surely he wouldn’t go without coming out and saying goodbye? Should I do something? As soon as Richard gets inside, he is swooped on by Rose. She takes his empty glass and passes it over to Harold for replenishment before starting what looks like an earnest conversation. I can’t believe they’re mother and son. For starters, Rose barely comes up to his chest and seeing them together just doesn’t seem to fit. After a few minutes, Rose takes the fresh champagne from Harold and, using her other hand to grasp Richard firmly by the elbow, steers him over to the table where my mother is sitting.

  ‘Did he say what I think he said?’ Cam is leaning towards me across Richard’s now vacant chair. ‘Did he?’

  ‘About him going?’ I ask, still staring inside.

  ‘No – before that.’

  ‘Well –’ I drag my eyes away from Richard and look at Cam ‘– that depends. What did you think he said?’

  ‘Come with me.’

  ‘That’s what I thought too,’ I say slowly as I chew my lip some more.

  ‘So?’ Cam slips into the empty chair. ‘What’re you going to do?’