Each Way Bet (22 page)

‘
Mum
!’ yelled Adam, Jill and Emily simultaneously.

‘So it was just the veni, without the vidi and the vici,’ said Tim thoughtfully. ‘That might explain a lot.’

‘And he’s from school, isn’t he?’ asked Jack, in that same low voice.

‘Yes, we do biology together,’ mumbled Megan, screwing up the tissue miserably.

‘Huh!’ said her mother bitterly.

‘And where does he live?’ asked Jack.

‘Dad, it’s not his fault,’ wailed Megan, ‘it was both of us!’

‘Takes two to tango,’ announced James Carstairs. ‘Now can we play bingo?’

‘My word, Jim!’ Margaret looked at her husband with horror. ‘Not now!’

‘Then we might as well go. Leave them to it.’

‘That’s probably not a bad idea.’ Margaret stood up and blinked at her son and daughter-in-law nervously. ‘We’ll get going. You must have a lot to talk about.’

‘You don’t have to go.’ Jill visibly collected herself and tried to sound gracious.

‘No, no. We were going to go before, anyway.’ Margaret edged out from the table and, moving around to the other side, dropped a kiss on the top of Megan’s head. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash, dear, it always does.’

‘I’ll see you out.’ Emily jumped up, thinking to herself that this socially acceptable gesture would give her a chance to replenish her drink. Or just to bring a few bottles to the table, which, judging by the pallor of most of those present, would be much appreciated.

‘I’ll get our plate.’ James Carstairs marched into the kitchen and then stopped, looking at the platter, which was liberally covered with damp crumbs and neglected garnish. ‘Humph! Have to wash it first!’

Emily waited while Margaret gave her son and daughter-inlaw a kiss and waved to everyone else, then she followed her to the front door where they waited for James to wash and dry his platter. They looked at each other, smiled awkwardly and, not for the first time, Emily wondered why a nice woman like Margaret Carstairs was married to a ghastly person like James. And had children with him. And
lived
with him. It didn’t make sense.

‘Are you
happy
with him?’ blurted Emily, and immediately
wished that she’d kept her mouth closed. ‘Sorry – sorry, how rude. I shouldn’t have asked that.’

‘No, that’s fine,’ said Margaret, clearly unperturbed by the question. ‘And I know exactly what you’re thinking. My word, I do. You’re thinking that Jimmy would be a hard man to live with, and why do I bother.’

‘Well, yes,’ admitted Emily.

‘You’re just like everyone else, dear. People often wonder, I can tell. And you’re young too, of course, and haven’t yet learnt to look beyond the surface. It’ll come. Yes, yes.’ Margaret smiled and shifted her handbag from one arm to the other. ‘You’re a nice girl, it’ll come.’

‘It will?’ asked Emily, confused.

‘My word, yes. See, I imagine you think that we’re mismatched. That my . . . ah, nervousness is because of Jim – and his behaviour. That he’s a bit of a bully. Am I right?’

‘Oh . . .’

‘But you see I’ve been a Nervous Nelly all my life. A wallflower, that was me – could never think of the right thing to say. Before a dance, oh! I used to make myself
sick
with worry. Then I met Jim and he was just the same. Found socialising just as hard as I did. I understood that at once.’ Margaret paused, blinked and then gave Emily a shy smile. ‘I think that’s what first attracted me to him. But where I get all twittery, he gets belligerent and rude. That’s his defence, see. Deep down, we’re just the same. Not terribly good at company. Some people are just like that.’ Margaret shrugged philosophically. ‘And being with Jim – I can accept that. Because I’ve got him.’

‘I see,’ Emily said slowly.

‘And that’s the greatest gift you can have in a husband, dear,’ Margaret continued, ‘not looks, or money, or even expectations – but balance. You remember that, dear, that you have to balance each other.’

‘Ready yet?’ James appeared behind them with the empty sandwich platter in one hand and his Rubik’s cube in the other. He gave Emily a gruff look: ‘You, girl, you look after your sister – she’s going to need you.’

‘Oh, and one more thing . . .’ Margaret paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked embarrassed. ‘We thought you should know, you’re such a nice girl – and that young man of yours . . . well, we wondered if you were aware that he was, he was a –’

‘Horse’s hoof,’ said James bluntly and then, as if he felt Emily needed further elaboration, ‘queer as a three-dollar bill. Pansy. Fairy.’

‘Yes,’ said Margaret, opening up the door. ‘Nice boy but – you could do better. My word, yes.’

Emily watched them walk down the driveway and squeeze past Jack’s Commodore, which was parked a bit too close to the concrete edge. As they reached the pathway, James tucked the platter up under his arm and, without either of them even looking at each other, Emily saw his left hand and her right extend towards each other and meet in the middle. And thus, with hands clasped, they walked on up the path and gradually disappeared from sight.

Emily shook her head with a sort of wonder. Because it was so easy, so simple, to make judgements about other people and to pigeonhole them into neat little stereotypes that reflected only what was seen. And she knew that, in this case, she had been guilty of exactly that. And by doing so she had ignored the multifaceted nature of humanity and settled instead for a one-dimensional assumption – and she hadn’t just sold the Carstairs couple short in the process, but herself. Because so much can be missed out on if one never looks beyond the surface. For appearances
can
be deceiving, and it seemed that Margaret and James Carstairs were living proof.

Jill stroked Megan’s cheek gently as she lay with her head in her mother’s lap, and wished fervently that everybody would just leave. Grab their things and go – and let her and her family face this crisis unfolding before them. But aside from her parents-in-law nobody was leaving – indeed, nobody had even offered. Instead, Adam sat at the table, his head leaning on one hand, offering all sorts of unsolicited advice, while Jill’s mother had set up the bingo apparatus before her and simply continued playing. Next to her, Charlotte sat with her face alight with curiosity, and across was Emily, who was steadily taking advantage of the fact that she could now drink without sanction. Surprisingly, the only two people who were even remotely helpful were the two who weren’t related. That woman was making herself useful in the kitchen replenishing drinks, mainly Emily’s, and making coffee, while Tim had taken himself off down the street to fetch some afternoon tea.

‘I’m so sorry,’ mumbled Megan against her mother’s jeans, turning her head and inadvertently wiping her nose on the denim. ‘I’m so,
so
sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Jill lied, tucking a piece of damp blond hair behind Megan’s ear.

‘Does this mean I’ll be an uncle?’ inquired Matt, who was leaning over his mother’s chair. ‘Hope it’s a boy. That’d be excellent.’

‘I want a girl!’ cried Cricket, who was leaning on the other side. ‘A little girl with red hair just like mine.’

‘Huh,’ said Kate, which was the first thing she had uttered since the news exploded amongst them. Instead she had removed herself from the table quickly and retreated to the couch against the broken window, where she sat and regarded
the proceedings darkly while she put a fresh coat of dull black on her chipped nails.

‘Okay, kids out!’ Jack, who had been pacing around the house since his parents left, reached the family room on his latest circuit and glared at his offspring. ‘And that includes you, Matt! Outside, all of you! Find something to do.’

‘What did
I
do?’ asked Kate resentfully, although she obviously didn’t expect an answer because she immediately stood and stalked outside, waving her fingers in the air to dry them. Matt followed reluctantly, wisely refraining from comment, and Cricket, whose mouth did open to object, closed it again when she saw her father’s face and followed suit. Last of all was Charlotte, who seemed to be a bit surprised that she was included in the command, but when Jack’s gaze fell on her she stood, smoothed her skirt down and walked regally outside. The sliding door shut behind them and Jack collapsed into a chair, gratefully taking the drink that Sybil offered him.

‘I’m
so
sorry, Dad.’

‘I know, Megs, but . . .’

‘You know, you’re the
last
person I would have expected this to happen to, Megan,’ commented Adam, not really helping at all. ‘I mean, you’re such a nice girl. So caring, so obliging.’

‘Obviously,’ said her father sourly.

‘Jack!’ Jill glared at him. ‘That won’t do any good, will it?’

‘So, Mum,’ Emily took a sip of scotch and turned to her mother brightly, ‘how’s
your
week been, then?’

‘You make up the most outrageous stories, Emily,’ said her mother crossly, putting down her pen momentarily and glaring at her youngest daughter. ‘I
don’t
have a weak bean, and never have had. It’s my
bladder
that gives me problems.’

‘Well, what are we going to do?’ asked Jack, looking at his wife.

‘
I
don’t know.’

‘I’m
so
sorry!’ Megan jumped up and stared at her parents, the tears running down her blotchy cheeks. ‘It’s all my fault!’

‘Megan!’ called Jill, getting up quickly as her daughter ran from the room. But then, as she automatically pushed back her chair to leave the table, any energy she still had suddenly vanished, leaving her feeling totally drained. So she sat back down with a thud and stared miserably at the far wall as she wrapped her hands around the steaming mug of coffee Sybil had made and placed in front of her. And they all sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, while the only sound was the click-click of the bingo balls turning within their metallic cage as her mother mixed them.

‘It’s not fair!’ Jill suddenly blurted, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she put down her coffee. ‘What have I done to deserve this? I’ve got a fourteen year old who only wears black and listens to music that sounds like it’s been composed for a mass murder, a three year old who can’t string two words together without swearing, and a seventeen year old whose sole purpose in life is to serve as a warning to others – no goals, no ambitions, except to sit on my couch and have other people clean up around him! And now I’ve got a sixteen year old who’s about to become a mother! The
only
one of the lot who actually seemed normal! What have I
done
?’

‘What do you mean –
you
?’ Jack looked at her bitterly and then put on a bad, rather whiny imitation of her voice: ‘What have
I
done? Where did
I
go wrong? Well, it’s
not
just you, is it? We’ve
both
stuffed up the kids. Not just you.’

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Jill stared at him, mesmerised by the resentful expression on his face. It almost seemed to verge on dislike. The shock of seeing
him
, out of everybody in the world, look at her like that was more than she could take. The unshed tears spilt over and trickled down her face, and she lowered her head into her hands and started sobbing quietly.

‘Jill!’ Emily put a hand on her sister’s heaving shoulder and patted it ineffectually. ‘Come on, Jill, it’ll be okay. Really.’

‘Sure it will,’ agreed Adam with false heartiness. ‘Come on. Cheer up.’

‘Here, I’ll move that coffee out of the way,’ offered Sybil, doing just that.

‘God, Jill,’ muttered Jack heavily, ‘god, I’m sorry. Hey, stop crying, come on. Look at me.’

Coming over and leaning against the table, he slid a finger underneath Jill’s chin and raised it up until they could face each other. She sniffed, stared at him accusingly and, as he dropped the finger, turned away and gazed around at everybody else instead. They all looked back worriedly and she flushed with embarrassment. Jack pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, passed it over to her and she blew her nose loudly.

‘Sorry, everybody. That was stupid.’

‘No, no. Don’t mention it.’

‘As long as you’re okay.’

‘I sort of meant it, though,’ Jack muttered and then, as she turned back towards him angrily, held up his hand: ‘Not nasty, though. But you act like it’s just you, and you’re on your own. But you’re
not
– it’s both of us. And she’s going to need us. No matter what happens.’ Jack examined one of his Band-Aided hands slowly and then continued, his voice slightly husky: ‘We’ve got through a lot and we’ll get through this too. As long as you remember that, no matter what happens, we can still work together. Don’t think you’re on your own, ever. There’s two of us, do you understand? Two.’

‘Bingo!’ called Jill’s mother happily.

Race Eight, 4 pm

The eighth race came and went with only Matt and Kate in the lounge-room to witness it. Everyone else continued to sit at the dining-room table, looking miserable and sighing every so often to break the silence. The only exception to this was Megan herself, who remained in her bedroom, her sobs audible to anybody who passed by her door on their way to the bathroom. Although several people had attempted to gain entry to the room, she was resolutely refusing visitors of any shape, size or gender.

A few minutes after the race finished, Tim returned laden with delicacies from a nearby cake shop. One by one, with the pizzazz of a conjurer, he placed in the centre of the table a huge, creamily thick cheesecake topped with kiwi fruit and crimson raspberries, a pavlova surrounded by crumbly, crusty meringue, and a selection of éclairs and profiteroles, each filled with lashings of whipped cream and topped with dribbles of dark chocolate. And the mood lifted as the table filled. While it was obviously never going to reach the level of cheerfulness that had been evident earlier, the presence of rich, delicious
food took the edge off the collective depression and started the conversation moving once more.

‘How decadent,’ said Sybil as she loaded a huge piece of pavlova onto a plate and set it before her. ‘Delightfully wicked!’

‘Well done, Tim!’ commented Emily, with a grin in his direction.

‘Excellent!’ Matt loaded his plate with a sample from each offering and pulled out a chair. The other kids joined him, Kate sitting as far back from her father as she possibly could and occasionally glaring in his general direction, obviously still holding him responsible for the fact that she had been forced to spend time outside against her wishes.

‘And when you’re finished, Adam –’ Tim slid a black mobile phone across the table to where Adam was sitting – ‘could you do me a favour?’

‘Ah, yes, I suppose so.’ Adam looked at the mobile with surprise.

‘Could you take this phone outside and then press redial. There’s someone waiting to speak to you.’

‘To me?’ Adam repeated suspiciously, still staring at the phone.

‘Yes. No tricks, I promise.’ Tim helped himself to a slice of cheesecake. ‘Just do this one thing and then that’ll be it. Just this one thing, okay?’

‘Okay.’

Emily decided to have another try at starting up a conversation:‘So, Kate, having much luck with the horses?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Good, good. So you’re enjoying yourself then?’

‘Yeah. Except for –’ Kate sent a brief but telling glance in her father’s direction – ‘some things. Oh, and yeah, school tomorrow. Hate school.’

‘God, Kate!’ Emily leant back and grinned across at her niece. ‘You shouldn’t worry so much about what’s happening tomorrow. You should just enjoy yourself today – live for the moment, and worry about what comes next later.’

‘Great advice for a teenager,’ Jack commented dryly.

‘Yes, worked well for Megan, didn’t it?’ added Jill sarcastically.

‘Fine, I’ll just shut up, shall I?’

‘Fine!’

‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ Adam pushed his chair back and, taking the mobile phone, left the room. Emily flashed a glance at Tim and watched a small smile play around his mouth as he leant back contentedly. She shook her head sadly – those gorgeous lips, that fantastic body . . . what a waste.

‘Can we play roulette now?’ asked Matt, already starting to clear the table.

‘Oh, Matt!’ Jill looked at him aghast. ‘Not now, please.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed his father fervently. ‘I don’t think anyone’s in the mood for games.’

‘I am,’ piped Charlotte unexpectedly.

‘Me too,’ said Kate, ‘if that counts, that is.’

‘See?’ insisted Matt, pausing on his way to the island bench with the remains of the pavlova. ‘Heaps want to play. And it’s not fair if you ruin our day just because Megan stuffed up.’

‘It’s a little more than stuffing up,’ commented Jill.

‘Still not fair.’

‘I’ll play with them,’ volunteered Emily, ‘then if you two don’t want to, you can go somewhere and talk. Actually, that’s a great idea! You two go talk and I’ll keep the kids occupied.’

‘No,’ said Jill quickly, ‘on second thoughts I’ll play too. It’ll keep me busy.’

‘That’s settled then!’ Matt fetched the roulette wheel from the lounge-room and placed it in the centre of the table. ‘Now, where are the balls?’

‘Should be in the box.’

‘Well, they’re not. Anyone seen them?’ Matt looked around the table but was met with blank looks and shaking heads. ‘Okay then, split up and search. They’ve got to be around somewhere because they were here before. Two silver balls. Look everywhere!’

Obediently, Emily lifted her drink and checked underneath but, on finding nothing there, sat back, relaxed and watched everyone else hunt through the room. At this point in the afternoon, she felt she had done enough work around this particular house. Coffees, and drinks, and dishes, and food. Someone was always wanting food! It was ridiculous.

‘Not here.’ Jill put the bingo machine back down in front of Mary, having checked inside the cage for two silver cuckoos amongst the white balls. A very astute and sensible place to check, thought Emily with surprise as she took another sip of scotch, but that’s probably one of the lessons that being a mother brought with it. And they were lessons, she was beginning to realise, that she wasn’t quite ready to sign up for yet.

At this point, Adam came strolling slowly back into the room and gave Tim his mobile phone without a word, his hand lingering for just a moment as he passed it over. They looked at each other with grim faces, locked in eye-to-eye contact that was obviously communicative in some way. Tim was the first to look away, shrugging philosophically and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

‘Where are those balls?’ Matt asked with exasperation. ‘
Someone
must have seen them!’

‘They’re always the last place you look,’ commented Emily helpfully.

‘Of course they bloody are!’ Jack said irritably. ‘If you found them, then why the hell would you keep looking?’

‘Where
are
they?’

‘Think back, Matt,’ instructed his mother, displaying yet another piece of maternal know-how. ‘When was the last time you saw them?’

‘Let me see,’ Matt scratched his head and looked skyward for illumination, ‘um.’

‘Think . . .’ encouraged Jill slowly.

‘I know!’ Matt looked at them triumphantly. ‘When we were playing flapjack! When you and Aunt Emily were talking about Tim being gay!’

‘
What
?’ exclaimed Tim, looking aghast at Emily.

‘So you
are
gay?’ asked Kate, with evident disappointment.

‘
Cricket
had them,’ continued Matt, pointing accusingly at his youngest sister, who, Emily suddenly realised, had been sitting at the table with her thumb in her mouth the entire time everyone had been searching for the balls.

‘Didn’t,’ muttered Cricket unconvincingly around her thumb.

‘Did too,’ said Matt, looming over her. ‘You wouldn’t give them to me.’

‘Mummy!’ Cricket suddenly wailed, turning to her mother as her huge brown eyes filled with tears. ‘Mummy, I want you!’

‘It’s okay, Cricket.’ Jill sat down next to the child and put her arm around her. ‘You’re not in trouble. We only want to know where you put them so that we can play. So – where are they?’

‘I.. .I
ate
them!’

‘You ate them?’

‘Yes, I ate them!’ Cricket buried her head in her mother’s shoulder and sobbed loudly.

‘How could you eat them?’ asked Jack with a puzzled frown.

‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Cricket pulled a large part of Jill’s vest over her face and then peeked out at her father and resorted to
baby-talk: ‘Matt wath trying to get them from me tho I hid them!’

‘Where?’

‘In my mowf!’

‘And then?’ queried her father with foreboding. ‘What happened then? And tell us in English, please.’

‘I got all eckthited when the big race was on and I thaid: “Go, horthy, go,” and I forgot they were in my mowf! And I ate them!’

‘Good god!’ Jill lifted Cricket off the chair and stood her up, running her hands over the child’s stomach area with concern. ‘Where are they? Can you feel them?’

‘I told you I felt thick. I
told
you!’

‘We’ll have to take her to the hospital,’ said Jill, putting her hand on Cricket’s forehead. ‘We’ll have to go now.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Not necessarily.’ Sybil came over to kneel in front of Cricket. ‘Can you feel them at all, sweetie?’

‘No,’ mumbled Cricket, thoroughly frightened now. ‘I felt them when they firtht went down but then they jutht went.’

‘How about here?’ Sybil touched one manicured finger gently to the base of Cricket’s throat. ‘Can you feel them here?’

‘No. They’re all gone.’

‘What about here?’

‘No.’

‘And you’ve eaten since, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Jill excitedly, ‘she had a big piece of pavlova. And I gave her an orange juice before as well!’

‘There you go.’ Sybil stood up, patted Cricket on the head and smiled. ‘She’ll be fine. She’ll just pass them through sometime tomorrow.’

‘Gross,’ commented Kate equably, ‘and she can keep them too.’

‘How do you know so much?’ asked Adam, obviously impressed.

Sybil sat back down in her seat and picked up her champagne. ‘I
am
a doctor.’

‘A doctor!’

‘That’s right!’ Jill looked at Sybil as remembrance dawned. ‘Corinne
said
you were a doctor. I forgot.’

‘Well,
I
didn’t know,’ said Jack crossly.

‘Did you think I was only interested in your wounds because I found you irresistible?’ Sybil looked at him playfully. ‘Just an excuse to get close or something?’

‘No, of course not,’ mumbled Jack, flushing.

‘How ridiculous,’ added his wife supportively.

‘And now we’ve got nothing to play,’ groaned Matt, slouching down into a chair and sending a filthy look towards Cricket, who disappeared into the safety of the lounge-room.

‘I vote we don’t play a game right now.’ Jill held up her hand to ward off Matt’s protest. ‘It’ll be the next race soon, anyway. Then after that we’ll play some crown and anchor and call it quits for the day. Who’s with me?’

‘Me,’ said Jack, nodding his head with approval.

‘Me too,’ agreed Emily.

‘Me three,’ said Mary, tipping all the white balls back into the bingo apparatus and starting over again.

‘And I’m going into the lounge-room.’ Jack stood up. ‘Come on, Matt, I’ll pour you a beer.’

‘What?’ asked Matt, who was now staring off into the corner with his mind obviously on other things.

‘The lounge-room,’ repeated his father, ‘come into the lounge-room.’

‘Where’s the lounge-room?’

‘Christ!’ Jack stared at his only son, who was still not focusing, and then turned to Jill. ‘Do you realise this represents the
best of my sperm when I was young? This alone should have been a lesson to Megan to wait till she was older.’

Jill watched Matt slowly come to his senses and realise that he was the focus of attention.

‘What? What are you staring at?’

‘Not much,’ said his father.

‘Thanks a lot!’ Matt looked at him resentfully. ‘You’re only picking on me because of Megan, and that’s not fair! At least I’m
planning
for the future.’

‘
You’re
planning?’ Jill looked at her son with surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Matt sniffed, ‘and you don’t have to sound like you don’t believe me. I was going to tell you when it was just us lot. But seeing as how you so obviously think I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ll tell you now.’

‘Please!’ encouraged Jill with enthusiasm.

‘I’ve decided –’ Matt spoke slowly to savour the moment – ‘I’ve decided to go for the
Big Brother
house next year!’ He looked around for approval and, seeing only stunned faces, felt pressured to explain. ‘All you need to do is spend three months in the house, and it’s not hard, and then you come out and get offered all sorts of jobs. Acting, commentating, commercials – all that sort of thing. What do you think?’

‘I think you’d better come into the lounge-room with me and have that beer,’ said his father, ‘that’s what I think.’

As Jack and his son left the room, with Matt clearly looking confused at the lack of appreciation his plan had evoked, Emily turned to Jill and grinned ruefully.

‘Well, at least he’s
got
plans now.’

‘Shows he’s starting to think ahead,’ added Adam helpfully.

‘Do you know,’ Jill said, still staring through into the lounge-room, ‘I’ve only ever had one car accident in my life? And that was him.’

‘You mean you – oh, I see.’

‘Look what I’ve got,’ Mary announced happily, ‘a little pink penis!’

Naturally this stopped all conversation dead. And as every-body’s head immediately swivelled around to stare at Mary, she held up an inch-long pink object that did, indeed, resemble a little pink penis.

‘I found it stuck on my poncho. Aren’t I the lucky one?’

‘It’s from my udder!’ said Jill with surprise, glancing over to where her china cow should have been – and wasn’t. ‘Did someone break my china cow?’

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ admitted Emily apologetically. ‘See, it was –’

‘Thank god! I
hated
that thing!’

‘Do you know,’ mused Mary, holding the little china teat up and examining it musingly, ‘this little guy reminds me so much of –’

‘
Mum
!’ yelled Jill, Adam and Emily simultaneously.

‘And you’re not having it.’ Mary stored her find securely inside her crochet bag and then looked at them smugly. ‘Finders keepers, losers weepers.’

‘It’s all yours, Mum,’ said Jill generously. ‘Believe me, even if I
had
liked that cow, it wouldn’t ever mean the same to me now.’

‘You’ll have to track down the other three teats,’ commented Adam, ‘and give them to her for Christmas. She can start a collection.’

‘Ah, perhaps not.’ Jill finished her coffee and then rose to put her mug in the sink. ‘God, look at this mess! I’m going to do these dishes and then I’m going to collapse.’