Odd Socks (38 page)

The French doors are flung open again and CJ jumps through, looking around with her hands on her hips until she spots her mother.

‘Mummy,' she shrieks with fury, ‘Ben stole my ut-er-us! And I want it
back
!'

This statement immediately, and understandably, kills the entire conversation around the two tables. Instead, everybody transfers their gaze to the miniature ball of wrath standing by the open doors glowering at us all.

‘He
did
! Mummy!' CJ spits out the words. ‘I want my ut-er-us back!'

‘More trouble than it's worth, kid,' comments David, the first to get his voice back.

‘How would
you
know?' asks his wife.

‘Um,' says Cam, looking rather confused, ‘he stole your
what
?'

‘My ut-er-us! I already
said
that! From our game what Terry gabe us!'

‘Allow me to explain.' I try to stop grinning before CJ sees. ‘I lent the girls an old game of Bronte's. You know, those ‘invisible woman' kits that used to be around? Well, they've been putting it together up on the landing. And I'd say that Ben has pinched a piece.'

‘Yes! My ut-er-us,' yells CJ.

‘Okay, okay,' says Cam crossly. ‘I'm coming.'

‘I'll come too.' I put my drink down, get up and smooth my hipsters. ‘I'd better check on everything. I'll be back in a few minutes.'

I follow Cam, who follows CJ, and we re-enter the house. I shut the French doors behind us and, leaving the other two to track down the missing uterus, go in search of Bronte. This takes quite some time because first I'm stopped by my mother, who wants to introduce me to Bonnie; then I'm stopped by Rose Riley, who wants to know whether Richard has been introduced to everybody; and then I'm stopped by Pat, who wants to know if I'd like a hit next Wednesday seeing as I'll still be on holidays. Finally, I'm stopped by the wizened old sentinel, who narrowly misses my shin and hits a passing goth instead.

Enough is enough. With the help of Cam's Aunt Annie and her middle-aged beau, I confiscate the cane from the elderly lady and store it under one of the folding tables. Then I continue the search for my daughter without fear of being crippled in the process. I find Bronte in the foyer, sitting at the bottom of the staircase with a group of similarly aged persons, who are taking it in turns to hold Sherry.

For the first time, I register what the baby is wearing and
immediately smile with startled pleasure. Because Bronte has used her old christening frock, which I keep tissue-wrapped in a box on the top shelf of my wardrobe. I had thought of offering this gown but imagined that Bronte would find it a tad old-fashioned for what she and Nick were after. But Sherry looks beautiful. All satiny-white, with six-inch-deep lace crisscrossing the hem, and raised white embroidery across the bodice.

‘Oh, Bronte,' I breathe as I shake my head slowly. ‘She looks wonderful!'

‘Mum!' Bronte looks up in surprise. ‘Oh,
shit
! It was going to be a surprise!'

‘She's beautiful.'

‘I'm glad you're pleased.' Bronte smiles at me. ‘Like, I thought you would be.'

‘Oh, I am. I really am.'

‘Ben! Mummy's going to make you gib me back my ut-er-us!
Now!
'

‘Benjamin, give CJ back her uterus,' Cam's voice echoes tiredly down the stairwell, ‘and do it right now, please.'

Bronte and her friends all look towards the sound of the voice and then back to me with their eyebrows raised.

‘Don't ask.' I drag my gaze away from Sherry and look at Bronte. ‘Listen, what time is your celebrant getting here?'

Bronte glances at her watch. ‘In about fifteen minutes. Why?'

‘Just checking that you're organised.'

‘Yep. That's why we're all waiting here. Oh, and Mum?'

‘Yes?'

Bronte looks at me smugly. ‘Did you happen to notice that all the party pies Nick and I got have been eaten, while there's heaps of your fancy stuff left?'

‘So?'

‘Like, so we weren't that stupid with what we bought then, were we?'

‘Whatever.' There isn't really any answer to that so I send Sherry one more smile and then wander back into the lounge-room, where I'm immediately accosted by a grinning Stephen, who is dressed rather flamboyantly in a loose satin bell-sleeved blue shirt and tight black leather pants – almost, but not quite, as tight as Elizabeth's. He is accompanied by a large cactus on legs. With a sinking feeling I recognise the fleshy protuberances and the deformed, carnivorous-looking buds that are waving in my general direction. And, even apart from the fact that it is now on legs, I think it's grown. I step back.

‘Um, has it eaten someone?' I ask, looking at the denim trousers and Nike runners sticking out from the base of the pot. ‘Was it one of my guests?'

‘Ha, ha,' laughs Stephen gaily, ‘of course not – you remember Sven, don't you?'

‘Certainly,' I exclaim with relief as Sven, the ambulance man, sticks his head around the side of the plant and smiles at me. ‘How are you?'

‘Not bad. Not bad at all,' he replies, ‘but I wouldn't mind depositing this somewhere, that's for sure.'

‘But I don't understand – Stephen? I
gave
it to you! Don't you want it?'

‘Oh, schnooks!' Stephen shakes his head at me. ‘This isn't the one
you
gave me! Of course not! No, no. It's just I thought it was such a little beauty that I scoured the shops till I found another one. It's for Bronte! As a present!'

‘For Bronte?' I repeat, staring at the plant dumbfounded.

‘Yes, she'll
love
it,' says Stephen emphatically, ‘and fancy you thinking it was the one you gave me!'

‘Well, it does look exactly the same,' I say slowly, mesmerised by the way the bulbous flowers are swaying backwards and forwards.

‘Ha, ha, ha. No, of
course
not!' Stephen grins at me and then looks at the plant, and the smile rapidly slithers off his face. ‘By the way – slight delay with your tax return. Is that a problem?'

I shake myself into alertness. ‘Not at all, no rush. And come with me, Sven. I'll show you where to put it.'

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.