The Home Girls

by Olga Masters

  Ted’s voice was sad. “Joan, you’re starting to talk like them.”

  “I do talk to them, Ted.”

  “I can’t talk to Ferdinand. I was away sick the day they had Italian at school.”

  “You were in Italy during the war. And you look on Phillip as if he came from Mars.”

  “I was in Italy fighting against Ferdinand’s relatives in the war.”

  “I always thought they were on our side,” Joan said.

  Ted put his pipe on the tray. “Every day you get farther and farther away from me, Joan.”

  She got up and raised the blind a few inches. “Your old war’s got nothing to do with Phillip. He’s a nice boy if you would try and get to know him. Look how he loves little Kerry.”

  “Which one’s little Kerry?”

  “You’re being silly and insulting. Your first grandchild. Phillip loves her like his own. Try and remember there’s a lot of love in that little house.”

  “Boat.”

  “All right then, boat!” Joan looked at her feet, hands between her knees again.

  “Joan!” Ted said so suddenly she jumped. “Let’s get away from it all.” She looked at him but his eyes were on the doorway as if he was planning soon to pass through it.

  “Do you remember how I wanted to do something different when we were young?” he said.

  “I remember. You wanted to buy a fishing boat and we were supposed to live in a tent on the banks of the Hawkesbury. Then you wanted to go to Lightning Ridge and dig for opals.

  “We were supposed to live in a galvanized iron tank turned upside down. Or sideways. I just forget.”

  “We nearly made it too. Only you said ‘I’m pregnant again. Isn’t it wonderful?’”

  “So it was. It made four, two boys and two girls. Think of all the people who dream of having the perfect family.”

  “My advice to them is to keep it a dream.”

  Joan’s voice was wistful. “I wish you wouldn’t talk that way.”

  Ted put a short arm towards her with a stubby hand at the end. “If you really love me Joan come away with me. We could buy a little run down motel on the coast and do it up. We’d get a good price for the house and the taxi. We could work together, be together all the time. The two of us like it was in the beginning.” He started off quite casual, then had to curb his eagerness.

  “I’d love it, Ted,” she said dreamily.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” He sat up straight as if he would start moving that instant.

  “No, we can’t go just yet.”

  “No,” Ted, body and voice sinking down as if it were the bed that anchored him. “You’ll never leave them, Joan.”

  Joan turned her toes in and leaned forward, young looking except for her worried face. “I would if they didn’t need us. But just take Annie. They’re saving for a house. Annie’s got to work for a while. Who else would mind the children?”

  Anger took charge of Ted’s voice. “Yes, who else? Who else would turn our happy home into a kindergarten. Nearly every day in the week, one of Annie’s, two of Ferdinand’s and one of Jerry’s. I used to love calling in for a cup of tea when I had a fare out this way. Now it’s like arriving behind the Pied Piper. I don’t come any more. You probably haven’t noticed.”

  She had, so she was silent.

  Pleading replaced Ted’s anger. “Come away with me, Joan.” he said. “Let’s tell them today we are going to sell out and go north. Too far away for them to find us. They don’t have cars because they say cars pollute the air. They couldn’t walk. Think of the condition of Tim’s feet if they walked.”

  She smiled to tell him she believed he was joking. “Tim likes to go barefoot. Lots of young people don’t wear shoes all the time these days.”

  “He’s another one I don’t talk about any more. Wally is always saying to me ‘Where is Tim teaching now?’ I never told Wally Tim gave up teaching to live in a hole in the wall. I never told Wally Tim wears one earring and a skirt and lives on seaweed and herbal tea.”

  “Ted! Just because Tim wore a caftan here once.”

  “And I looked at him and thought ‘I couldn’t introduce him to my best mate as my son.’ I can just see the look on Wally’s face.”

  “Tim’s an artist. You should be proud.”

  Ted didn’t snort but it was as if he had.

  After a moment Joan said, “I should be out there in the kitchen doing things.” But she didn’t go.

  “Don’t do them,” Ted said. “Come out for the day with me. Let them make their own lunch. We could go to a Sunday movie. Or we could sit by the harbour and talk about going away together. Why can’t we?”

  “Because we can’t, Ted. Of course we can’t.”

  “Of course we can’t,” Ted said in such a voice Joan got up and went to the dressing table and pulled the pins out of her hair.

  “You’ve done your hair,” Ted said.

  “I know,” Joan said.

  He couldn’t see her face, only her body crooked with the effort of brushing and pinning.

  “Leave your hair down,” Ted said. “I just got a whiff of it. Honeysuckle. Come to bed with me.”

  “Oh Ted,” she said with a crooked smile.

  Their eyes met in the mirror. But she saw also the custards to be made for the babies, the steaks to be seasoned (leaving one without garlic for Tim), the table to be set, the vacuum run over the floors. It blotted out everything including Ted.

  “I wish there was time,” she said.

  “But there isn’t,” he said.

  She sat on the bed near his legs and noticed how swiftly he moved them. She looked with envy at the legs of the dressing table. Oh, lucky things. Nothing to do but hold up a set of drawers with claw feet sunk deep into the carpet.

  “Come on,” he said putting his legs back and moving one against her rump. “I need something to bolster me for the ordeal ahead.”

  She jumped as if she’d been hit.

  “Don’t!” she said.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Talk that way. I don’t like it.”

  He stared at the quilt between his feet and Joan stole a look at his face.

  She said gently, “It’s OK for us to talk about selling out and going away. Something for the future. To talk about at least.”

  “Stop talking to me as if I was Jerry’s little Bramble.” Ted said.

  “Bramwell.”

  “Even the names they give their kids are an embarrassment to me. To say nothing of Jerry.”

  She was silent.

  “The last family day we had, Jerry told us he was chucking up engineering to take on glass blowing. Jerry was the one I talked about the longest. To steer Wally away from the others I talked about Jerry. I put a boy through University. I could say I had an engineer for a son. But what does Jerry do? With a house not half paid for he says ‘I don’t wanna be an engineer. I wanna be a glassblower.’”

  “If Jerry wants to blow glass and he’s happy blowing glass we have to go along with it.”

  “Those words have an ominous sound,” Ted said.

  “What’s ominous about Jerry blowing glass?”

  “Going along with it is the ominous part. We had to go along with it when Annie got accidently pregnant and when she got intentionally pregnant. We had to go along with it when Tim gave away teaching for bludging, and we have to go along with it when Jerry throws up everything he’s worked for and we’ve worked for to blow something he says is a fruit bowl but looks to be more like a deformed pear. It all boils down to one thing.”

  Joan looked at the scuffed toes of her shoes.

  “Hand outs from us,” Ted said, “Money. Cash. The stuff they despise. They don’t even say the word. They get you to. ‘Ted, can you spare fifty? Ferdinand’s got toothache and the dentist charges. Annie can’t keep a goat on the boat. She’s got to buy milk.’”

  She smiled the smile that said she liked him joking.

  “What’s Jerry and his wi
fe and kids going to live on until he blows the right shaped glass?” Ted said, “Tell me that.”

  Joan stood up. “Oh Ted, I’ve got enough on my mind and so much to do. Get up and give me a hand. Please, Ted.”

  He reached out and took her elbow. “Come to bed and give me your body. Please Joan.”

  She saw his reflection in the mirror. His round eyes in his round head jutted forward. He reminded her of a bulldog in a dog’s home whom no one wanted. She smiled and he smiled back.

  “OK?” he said.

  “All right,” she said.

  He took hold of her jumper pinching it towards him. “Jeez, you’re beautiful. I can smell that honeysuckle. Imagine us together in some little place. No kindergarten underfoot. No shocks. We could throw away the brandy bottle.”

  She took his hand rubbing his fingers. Her smile was so wide the strain left her eyes. But at that moment the phone rang.

  “Jeez!” said Ted, “It’s one of them!”

  Joan went to silence the phone. It was in the living room and he heard her voice but caught no words. In a minute she was back pulling off her pullover. He saw her face when she threw it down.

  “Who was it?” he said.

  “Lois.” She crossed her arms behind her back to unfasten her bra. Her hair was all over her shoulders.

  “What did she want?”

  “Nothing. She said she was coming.”

  “I knew she was coming. You said all of them were coming. What else was it?”

  “Oh, Ted,” she said sitting down and crossing her leg on her knee to take off her shoes. Her face had come loose too.

  “Don’t bother,” Ted said, “I’ve lost interest. You have too. If you had any that is.”

  She sat still. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him.

  “I’ll make us some tea and bring you a cup,” she said.

  “In advance of the brandy bottle. No thank you Joan.”

  She saw in the mirror his hooded eyes and set mouth.

  “I think I’ll go away alone,” he said. “Up north alone.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said.

  “Don’t talk to me as if I were Bramble, Joan.”

  This time she didn’t correct him. She pulled on her pullover avoiding his eyes.

  “I’ll sell the taxi,” Ted said, “You can have the house and I’ll go north, I’ll drive a cab for someone else.”

  She shut a drawer that wasn’t really open. “You’ll do no such thing Ted.”

  “I’ll send you money but I won’t send you love.”

  She put some lipstick on although she hadn’t washed her face.

  “I wouldn’t want your money without your love.”

  He flung a leg towards her under the bedclothes. “For the last time Joan let’s sell out and start a new life together away from them. We can tell them today we’re going. See how they stand up to the shock.”

  “Oh Ted, she said smiling on him as if he were Bramwell.

  “I mean it, Joan.”

  “You couldn’t leave Wally now, could you?”

  “I’m a traitor to Wally. I’m always lying to Wally. I told Wally I got four of the smartest, cleverest kids in Australia. Old Wally doesn’t know the half of it.”

  “That’s true what you say about the children,” she said. He was silent looking more like a bulldog then. The kind she loved but was afraid to pat.

  “You’ve never met Wally, have you? Wally and Bella.”

  “No, I haven’t yet.”

  “Yet. Wally has been my best mate for years and you haven’t got around to meeting him.”

  She sat down on the edge of the chair. “We’ll have them for a meal sometime when we can organize it.”

  “You could come for a drink at the club and meet them there. Bella is more or less on tap since she’s the barmaid. But you’re too worn out after kindergarten and too frightened to leave the house in case one of them calls in for something or rings up for something.”

  “Oh Ted, you’re hassling me.”

  “You’re talking like them!”

  Joan was silent a moment. “I’m worried,” she said, “About Lois.”

  “I’m surprised. I thought you went along with all they did. They gave you no cause for worry.”

  She looked at the floor.

  “I never got over Lois,” Ted said. “This day I was saying to Wally ‘I’ll bring my girl Lois’s school report in to show you what those teachers say about my smart kid.’ That very evening you passed me the brandy bottle and a glass and told me to sit down. Because Lois had just gone off with Archie hitchhiking around Australia. Seventeen and with one sleeping bag.”

  “I know. But all of them do it now. They go off to find themselves.”

  “Is that so? The only bright spot was that in the process of finding herself Lois lost Archie.”

  “And she came home to us, didn’t she?”

  “There was nowhere else to go.”

  Joan pressed her hands between her knees. Ted saw her face. “What about Lois? What did she say on the phone? What’s she up to now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s Lois. Nothing.”

  “Oh Ted, I don’t mean she’s doing nothing!”

  “You just said she was doing nothing. She’s done nothing since she left school.”

  “She’s still working at those odd jobs. She lives with Cassandra.” She looked at the floor. “But not much longer.”

  “Archie turned Lois off men for good. But why did she have to pick up with Cassandra?”

  “Cassandra’s met a man.”

  “A man wouldn’t have met Cassandra. He would think it was another man.”

  “Cassandra is giving up the house. She and this man are buying a caravan and going around Australia. He makes jewellery from horseshoe nails. They’re going to sell it in the country towns.”

  “What an affliction. The country people have got their own horseshoe nails. They don’t want Cassandra’s. And they’ve got their own problems. They don’t deserve Cassandra.”

  “Ted! Stop talking about Cassandra. I want to tell you about Lois!”

  “She rang to remind you to tell me, eh Joan? To prepare me before she comes? You’ve got to make sure the brandy bottle is on hand for me. Is that it Joan?” His voice had risen with his body out of the bed.

  “Please, Ted!”

  He dragged some clean underwear from a drawer. “Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know!”

  “You’ve got to know! I’ve got to tell you!”

  “No you don’t! I’m going out for the day. I’m leaving you to them, Joan!”

  She looked up at him but he was pulling on a singlet. “Don’t be silly, Ted. What will they think if you’re not here?”

  “They mightn’t notice. I’m going to find Wally. I’ll have the day with Wally.”

  “Don’t run out on me Ted!”

  “You’ll have them! You don’t need me!”

  “Oh Ted,” she said wearily. “I do need you.”

  He was stumbling into underpants. “Like hell you need me! I know all about these family lunches.” He dragged some shoes from the wardrobe and socks from a drawer. “There’ll be steaks. I got plenty of memories of steaks for lunch. Two and a half pounds on Tim and Jerry’s plates and half a pound on mine. Sometimes your conscience gets to you and you cover one of the pounds on their plates with a pound of mushrooms. I’m footing the bill for it all but there’s enough room on my plate beside my steak to park my cab and Wally’s.”

  “Stop it, Ted,” she cried and he did because he saw her face so crumpled her hair looked too young for it. “It’s Lois.”

  “Of course it’s Lois! It’s one of them all the time. It’s all of them all the time. I’ve had as much as I can take. I’m going out to find Wally and we’ll drink our way through a couple of dozen cans. That’ll be my day.”

  “Ted!” Joan put both hands on the chair arms as if she needed help to stand. “Lois is into religion now.”
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br />   “You talk like them!”

  “All right. Lois is joining the Children of God.”

  “Jeez,” said Ted standing still. “What are they?”

  “It’s a religious group. She’s becoming one of them. A child of God.”

  “That finishes it. She doesn’t want to be the child of Ted and Joan. She’s denouncing us!”

  “She’s not! She’s coming home to us!”

  “What for this time?”

  “To save some money.”

  Ted dropped shoes and socks on the floor. “Like hell she is! I’ll take a stand. She’s not coming here to stay. I’m not having Children of God in the lounge room and children of Ferdinand in the dining room! It’s not on!” He seized a brush from the dressing table and began to brush his sparse grey hair. “It’s just not on.”

  She put a hand out and touched his bare thigh and he jumped as if her fingers burned him. He stumped around the room finishing dressing. She stood up while he was jabbing a foot into a sock.

  “I’m frightened of them too, you know Ted,” she said.

  He had one foot in the air and his eyes and mouth were three round rings focused on her. He lowered his leg. “Don’t say that to me! Don’t you dare say I’m frightened of them.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

  He jumped off the bed and went to the mirror and began to slap again at his hair with the brush. “Cut it out! They don’t frighten me!” He pulled on a shirt and this ruffled his hair, so he seized the brush again.

  “Oh, they do, Ted.”

  He threw the brush among the things on the dressing table. “They do not! I’ve never opened up on them because of you. You go along with all they do. You talk like them, you think like them!” He went to the wardrobe and pulled out a jacket and began to jerk into it. “I’m the outsider!”

  He had his back to her and his bulldog neck seemed the loneliest thing she had ever seen. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’ll get right out,” he said. “I’ll leave you to them. You’re just like them.”

  “Oh no Ted,” she said. “Not me. You.”

  He gave her a swift unbelieving look. “Don’t give me that! Bull like that!” But he looked in the mirror for reassurance. She met his eyes there.