Eloquent Silence (38 page)

But I loved her, she knew that. Loved her and those bloody kids. Oh, well, you can’t help bad luck. Did my best but all that ‘forgive and forget’ shit doesn’t wash with me. She used to say she never knew what I was doing when I’d go to town and come home at two or three o’clock in the morning. None of her business. Man’s got to live life to the full.

With a little chuckle he poured himself another good stiff rum. Here’s to you, old mate, he told himself agreeably.

He slept for a while, woke, felt slightly clearer in the head, dry in the mouth again. He poured himself a beer to quench his thirst. Why should I care, he wondered? Why does it matter to me? I shouldn’t be holding a grudge after all these years, maybe, but it feels good, so I’ll do it.

I told her I’d blacken her name so that she would never be able to hold her head up in the town again if she left me. I told her I’d get custody of the children, what with her being an adulteress and all. That kept her quiet for years. Had her right under the thumb for a long time but then suddenly one day she got fed up and went to a solicitor, then she up and left and took the kids. Funny things, women. Can’t fathom them at all at the best of times. Strange cattle. Ha ha.

Those bloody old parents of hers took her in, took them all in. That stupid old minister and his wife from over the road stuck up for her, told me they didn’t think she should come back to me. Huh! Ministers are supposed to help preserve a marriage. Old Irish hound, he was. Said I was a danger to Annie and the kids, totting a gun and knocking them around.

The rotten old doctor and her solicitor both took photos of her bruises, lacerations, told her I’d kill her the way things were going. Huh! I never hurt her! Well, not much. Nothing that didn’t heal up in a fortnight. Ha ha. Not any more than she deserved, anyway. Can’t help bad luck, I always say.

Told everyone in the bar she had run away with an army joker when she went to Ouswich for the Women’s Association Conference. That was a good trick! Stirred her up.

She said the kids were nervous wrecks. She took exception that night when I had her down on the floor with my hands around her throat and little David got behind me and tried to pull me off her. Just because I gave him a bit of a push and he fell and knocked his head on the piano! Didn’t mean to hurt the kid, made him woozy for a while, though. Bruise on his temple. Teeth through his lip and all that crazy talk, she told the solicitor. Wasn’t my fault she fell down and I had to grab her around the neck, by crikey.

Just trying to keep Annie in line was all it was. Spent half my time trying to keep her in line, stay in the house to answer the phone in case customers rang. Man’s got a right to do that to his wife, I say. Keep her at home and inside. Who needs a garden. She said she did but then she said a lot of things that didn’t matter a rap.

He gave a queer throaty chuckle to himself, his usual brand of laughter without mirth or meaning.

Annie said someone would have died if they had stayed in that house with me and that it wouldn’t have been me. Too right it wouldn’t have been me. Not that stupid!

More rum, and another. Girda and the girls came home, the barbecue was organized, the guests arrived. He gave them all tight, mirthless smiles because he considered they were a touch too late for his liking. The sight of his string-thin lips didn’t seem to concern them too much. They continued to talk amongst themselves as they had been doing when they walked in.

But Girda was good like that, he mused as he watched his family chatting. Excellent at arriving home and organizing things, good at not going into panic mode when the chips were down. She didn’t drop her bundle, never panicked. Must remember to tell her money doesn’t grow on trees, though. She’ll have to stop using so much fuel. Have to get Sophia’s father to chip in with extra money for her to be taken to dance lessons and swimming.

He sat for a while looking around him, hostile, critical, waiting for something to happen that he could comment negatively about as one by one the married couples from his first marriage settled in quietly and looked towards him for conversation. His pinched face had gone from the rum-induced bright red to a scary shade of purple. He sat as remote as a Buddha, with some contradiction in his thoughts as to whether he was pleased to see his guests or not.

Mmmm. Just look at that Sarah, all pregnant and big as a house. Funny about Sarah. Never talks to me much. Pretty girl. Tallish, thin usually. Not now, though. Very pally with that husband of hers, Gordon. Funny how he doesn’t talk to me much either. Annie must have told her what I used to say about Sarah when she was little, that I used to say she was stupid. Her mother said she was deaf. Sarah wouldn’t remember all that. She was only ten when Annie and I parted. Memories don’t go that far back. Mine don’t anyway.

And Ruth and that husband of hers, Dan. They’re thick, too. Was his name again. Dan. That’s right. Hard to remember all those new names. But he’s not a bad guy. Likes a drink almost as much as I do. Might try to make a buddy out of him for a bit of a booze-up now and again.

Conrad viewed his first family through a foggy haze. They swam about a little, moved out of focus just a touch from time to time. David reckons Stephanie’s expecting, too. Man might get a grandson or two out of all this breeding. Hell, I’m too young to be a grandfather. What will that do to a man’s image with the little bits of skirt I run into here and there? Too young for all that by a mile. A man doesn’t want to get mixed up in all that fandangled business. Babies and all that drama. Jesus.

Ruth doesn’t have a lot to say to me either, come to think of it. I remember when she was a baby, the first baby. I liked her a fairly well for a while. Used to take her places with me when she got a bit bigger. But things changed when David was born. Had to wipe Ruth in favor of David, the son. Only one worth bothering about out of the lot of them really, Annie, the two girls and David. Tried to teach him how to think about women. Inferior, stupid and so on. Just put on earth to keep the human race going and to serve the menfolk. Traditional beliefs taught to me by my father.

Ruth wouldn’t remember being sidelined in favor of David, though, not that far back. She was about six when David was born. No memory there, either, I’ll bet. Holy Moley, I can’t remember back to when I was six. Impossible.

I always have a favorite. Got to make it clear to them that they are the favorite, otherwise they might not notice and that would be a shame. Have to make it obvious to all the others as well, just so they don’t get the wrong idea and think I like them best. Got to have a pecking order, one special male at the top of course, followed by all the other males. Only natural. Then some of the females. Not all, naturally. Some of them don’t even warrant an approval rating let alone being part of the pecking order.

Vision still swimming about a little, moving out of focus a little. Another rum might make them stay put. A few more rums and the atmosphere amongst guests and residents began to thaw noticeably while they talked of impersonal matters, warming to amiability all round by the time they had consumed their burgers.

Finally, Sarah and Gordon took their leave, Sarah saying she had back ache and needed to go home to bed. The others sat on.

‘Funny girl, that Sarah,’ Conrad told the rest of the family in a low, sullen monotone when Sarah and Gordon had left.

‘Don’t know who she’s like. Can’t quite put my finger on it.’ He pursed his lips and shook his head as if puzzled, his tone conversational and friendly, the plan already formulated in his head.

The beginning of the downfall of Annie, bloody Annie with her high falutin ideas about being ill treated and held down for years. Treated her like a queen. Own car to drive around in. Brand new. Access to the check book. Too bad I wouldn’t let her use it though, except to pay the bills and when she did finally pay them without my permission I’d have to go ballistic.

‘Why’s that? How do you mean? Mum says she’s more like her than she is like anyone, like she was when she was young,’ Ruth informed her father.

For a minute there was an intense silence as Conrad sat without a muscle in his body moving. Then he stretched out his legs and looked around the small assembly, with his flinty look that contained a glimpse of martyred tolerance.

Bloody Annie again! Still saying things! Still having opinions! Poking her bloody nose in and daring to talk! Will there never be an end to hearing about Annie?

Conrad gazed blankly at his oldest child, his face closed and neutral. Before speaking he paused as though his mouth found the words he was about to utter distasteful in the extreme.

‘Don’t know, Ruth. Don’t think so. Used to think she was like my sister, Hilda, but now I don’t any more. Never had a lot of feeling for Sarah. Don’t quite know where she came from! Like a cuckoo in the nest, if you like. I don’t think she’s mine.’

The subtle, lurking power of the innuendo, the eye-rolling satisfaction of telling without quite telling, pausing on the brink of disclosure, close enough to topple in or reverse out of the situation if need be. The exquisite fact of having details others would be bursting to know and he was the possessor of the knowledge.

Silence again fell upon the company. Conrad regarded his ice cube floating in his rum and coke. The adults began to move restlessly, shuffling in their chairs while down at the other end of the rumpus room the youngsters could be heard hooting and hollering over a game of ping-pong.

‘I don’t think she’s mine,’ he repeated meaningfully in case his audience hadn’t taken it in the first time around. He rolled the ice cube around in his glass thoughtfully. ‘Mmmm. Always wondered. Bit of a mystery there.’

Astounded, Ruth replied hotly, flaring in her mother’s defense as always, ‘ Of course she’s yours.’

‘God, you do go on Dad,’ David said in disgust.

‘Bet you don’t know your mother had an affair. Bet she’s never told you that,’ Conrad smirked. Triumphantly, he played his ace.

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Ruth firmly.

‘Sober up, Dad,’ said David.

The in-laws squirmed with embarrassment, wishing the ground would open up and swallow them.

‘Time to go,’ said Dan stiffly, taking Ruth by the hand. ‘Your old man’s lost it again. Come on, Ruth. Let’s get out of here double quick.’

Stephanie grabbed David’s hand as she rose to leave.

‘Your father throws a great party,’ said Dan as the four of them walked towards the car in the driveway. ‘Are you going to ask your mother about this?’ he asked Ruth and David  as they all climbed into David’s Monaro.

‘No way,’ said David. ‘It’s the booze talking. And for the love of God, don’t tell Sarah.’

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B
ut it worried Ruth and it worried David. They couldn’t keep it to themselves. Each time they met their father he added a little more information for them to digest.

‘The man’s name was Jacob Blumberg...um...Bloomberg...er,’ he said during the next gathering when Sarah was absent.

‘We don’t want to hear about it, Dad,’ Ruth and David both told him adamantly. Both of their partners, the in-laws who wished themselves in Hell rather than having to listen to Conrad’s meanderings, turned their faces away and watched the grass growing outside the sliding glass doors. ‘Twenty years older than your mother, he was. Tall, thin bastard, curly black hair, dark, almost swarthy, could have been a Jew,’ he rambled, ignoring their obvious distaste for the subject.

‘It’s her business, Dad,’ David said, watching his two half-sisters playing chess.

The family stirred restlessly, not wanting to sit through another long, drawn out bout of Conrad’s self pity and self-righteousness.

Ruth’s husband, Dan, was on the point of leaving, standing up and moving from one foot to the other.

‘You give a great party, old fella, but we don’t need this.’ He finished his beer quickly. ‘I think I’m out of here, Ruth,’ he pronounced through gritted teeth.

‘He’s dead now, the bastard...Tall and thin he was. Sarah’s tall...’Once started, Conrad could not seem to stop.

‘Leave it alone, Dad.’ David looked at his pregnant wife, Stephanie, who was obviously uncomfortable with the subject matter. He gave a sharp, impatient gesture and an audible sigh.

‘He was dark, though, and Sarah’s fair but that’s nothing. I was always suspicious of her, Annie, that is, you know. She knew that from the day we were married. Suspicious of her and every boy she ever went out with when she was single. Accused her of having gone the whole way with all of them when she was going out as a young single girl. That was once we were married, of course. Couldn’t start in on her while we were single. She’d have bolted for sure. Never let her forget for a moment that I was on to her from Day One.’

‘Give over, Dad. You’re boring everyone to tears.’ David made a move to rise and take Stephanie by the hand to leave.

‘Sit down, David. We’ll forget about what she did or didn’t do.’ He smiled one of his please-love-me smiles at his only son and went on to talk about the dogs who sat at David’s feet, Porky and Snorky. ‘Porky’s a great little killer of snakes, you know. We get quite a lot out here. Snorky couldn’t care less. She’d lick them to death in a flash.’

However, eventually push had come to shove as Conrad had always intended it would. The young people wanted to seek out the truth, needing to defend their mother and remove any suspected taint from the conception of their sister when the timing was right and they felt able to front up to her and her hurt via Conrad’s heartless references to her past.

By this time, Sarah had given birth to a son, Paul.

Conrad had come to the baby’s christening and the party at the young couple’s house later. He had been forced to tolerate Annie’s presence while he looked like some kind of saint. Paul was wearing a white christening coat, proudly knitted for him by Annie, his maternal grandmother. Conrad snorted in disgust at the mention of this and Sarah omitted all mention of it in Paul’s baby book. Annie could only imagine this was in deference to her father’s sensibilities, knowing how proud she would have been if her own dear mother had knitted a christening coat for one of her grandchildren.