Spin Cycle (27 page)

I am shaken out of my reverie by the shrill sound of the doorbell. I frown as I'm not expecting anybody else. I
knew
I should have insisted that the sign stay on the door. I cast one more look at Phillip, who is now engaged in what looks like a
very
earnest discussion with my younger sister, and head for the front door. I open it wide and there stands Joanne, dressed all in black: black pants, black shirt, black cardigan. So I scream.

‘Aaah!' I scream.

‘Aaah! Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!'

‘Oh, you didn't
scare
me. I just wasn't expecting anyone, that's all.'

‘But I rang the doorbell and you opened the door …'

‘Never mind! So what can I do for you?'

‘Oh. Well, it's just that I've been doing some thinking and I thought perhaps I'd better have a talk with you.' She hesitates, obviously expecting an invitation inside at this point.

‘And?' I ask questioningly, because there is no way that I am asking
her
inside.

‘Oh, okay.' Joanne's face starts to colour. ‘Well, I just thought that I might owe you an apology.'

‘You
did
?'

‘Yes. I should never have overreacted the way I did.' Her face continues to colour rapidly. ‘What happened afterwards was entirely my fault. And I feel simply dreadful about your suspension.'

‘You
do
?'

‘Yes. In fact I've told Alan exactly what happened, that's how I ended up being suspended as well.' Joanne's face is now clashing violently with the bright red of her hair and her freckles have begun to merge. ‘But I thought that's probably not good enough and I should come around here and apologise in person. So – I'm sorry.'

‘You
are
?'

‘Yes. I know it's not good enough but it's the best I can do. And I know it's no excuse but I've been under a mass of personal stress lately and I think it all got to me on Tuesday and I snapped. I'm sorry that you ended up in the firing line. Literally.'

‘Well. I don't know what to say.' I stop there because I really
don't
know what to say.

‘You don't have to say anything. Oh, and here you are.' She holds out a bulky plastic bag. ‘I think this is yours, I found it after you were arrested.'

‘Thanks.' I take the bag from her, open it and, sure enough, there is my extravagant, not-so-new jumper. I wonder if she washed it.

‘Well, that's all I suppose.' Joanne looks at me questioningly.

‘Yeah. Look, thanks for the apology.'

‘That's fine. Well, have a nice day.' She smiles tightly and turns away. I watch her walk slowly down the pathway towards her car while my conscience wages war. Then I give in.

‘Joanne!'

‘Yes?' She whirls around and looks back at me.

‘Would you like to come in for a drink? I've got some people out the back.'

‘Oh, are you sure? I won't be a bother?' She is already walking up the path towards me so, if she
were
going to be a bother, it'd be too late to say so anyway.

‘No, no bother. Come in.' I hold the door open and usher her through. Then I lead the way to the kitchen and pass her a platter of corn chips, cheese and salsa.

‘If you'd like to take these out, I'll get you a glass. Terry from the library is out there so she can introduce you around. I'll be out in a minute.'

‘Are you sure I'm not intruding?'

‘Positive,' I say in a voice dripping with contrived conviction.

‘Okay. Thanks. Um, I'll see you out there.'

I turn away and toss the plastic bag full of jumper into the laundry for later. Then I find a spare wineglass. If she is capable of ‘snapping' like she did on
Tuesday when she is stone-cold sober, I wonder what she will be like after a couple of drinks? I look through the window and watch the surprise register on Terry's face as Joanne comes strolling across the yard and puts her platter down on the table. Terry glances with consternation up to the kitchen window and I wave merrily. Hah! Well, since she's the one who thought that Joanne was only just a little ‘intense', I'll let them sit next to each other.

I grab another platter, and Joanne's empty glass, and head outside before someone comes looking for me. As I approach the table, I can hear Terry effecting introductions. My mother immediately engages Joanne in conversation. I grin because revenge is sweet. I also note that Phillip has now got his arm across Bloody Elizabeth's shoulders and they are still having an intimate conversation. She sends me a brief but steady stare. Most of the younger tribe have pulled their chairs over to the table and are attacking the dip platter with various degrees of gusto. I sit down in a vacant chair between Diane and Terry – who now has Joanne on the other side – and pour Joanne and myself a glass of wine.

‘What
are
you up to?' Terry whispers as she takes Joanne's full glass from me and passes it over to her other side.

‘Exactly what I want to know.' Diane looks at me questioningly.

‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,' I answer them both simultaneously. ‘Just being a Good Samaritan, that's all.'

‘Well, thanks a million,' Terry replies sarcastically in a low voice. ‘She looks like she's going to a funeral.'

‘Actually, what
I
meant was, what are you up to with Elizabeth's boyfriend?' Diane puts her hand on my shoulder to grab my attention. ‘And why did Maggie come storming out here a few minutes ago?'

‘I have no idea. All I know is that I am totally innocent.'

‘In a pig's ear,' says Terry pointedly.

‘I just
can't
put my finger on where I know you from.' Harold is back to staring at Maggie yet again. ‘Is that right?'

‘Can I have your attention, please!' I jump up and gently hit my glass with a spoon before he can get started again. ‘We have some announcements. Mum, would you like to start?'

‘Perhaps you could tell everyone, dear.'

‘Okay then, but first I'd like to make sure that everybody has been introduced to Joanne over here.' I gesture towards Joanne, whose face is slowly turning red again as a chorus of hellos rings out. ‘She is a friend of Terry's and mine from the library. Now for the important stuff. I'd like you all to charge your glasses and –' At this point I am drowned out by the noise of everybody reaching for the various bottles scattered around the table. I decide to ignore the fact that Ben and Michael have also managed to score a glass of beer each. ‘A toast! A toast to Mum and Harold, who have decided to get married next February! On the thirteenth!'

Everybody cheers and then drinks while Mum and Harold sit and beam benevolently around the table. I have to admit, he
does
actually look happy. Of course, nobody looks particularly surprised because
everybody, except Joanne, already knew what was coming.

‘Hang on! Isn't February the thirteenth your birthday?' Samantha wins herself umpteen brownie points by being the only one to mention this little item.

‘Do you know, that's right!' I say, trying to look like this had only just occurred to me. ‘What a coincidence!'

‘Oh, it's no coincidence.' Mum smiles benignly while she waggles a finger in my general direction. ‘I thought it would be just
lovely
to have a joint celebration!'

‘Gee, thanks,' I say dryly as Diane nudges me in the ribs. Well, I still think that I could have been consulted, given the fact that I
did
have a prior claim on the date in question.

‘Just think, darling,' Mum continues regardless, ‘it'll be forty years ago that we welcomed you to our family and we'll celebrate it by welcoming a new member!'

‘In that case, I suggest another toast.' David stands up before I can respond to the self-proclaimed president, and dictator, of the Family Welcoming Committee. He holds his glass out with a flourish: ‘To Harold, welcome to the family!'

Everyone cheers again and Harold looks positively thrilled. Obviously affected by the emotion of the moment, he leans over and kisses my mother. Unbelievably, she blushes ever so slightly and puts her hand to her cheek while smiling at her fiancé coyly. It's a very sweet moment and everybody cheers again.

‘So, Mrs Riley! Marrying again! I must say you
are
brave. But what about what you were telling me last time we spoke, the afterlife and all that?' Terry has a cheeky expression on her face.

‘Oh, I don't worry about
that
sort of thing, my dear, and really you shouldn't either at your age. Waste of time.' My mother puts her firmly in her place and takes a dainty sip of her wine.

‘I hope you don't mind.' Harold looks at me, still smiling. ‘About your birthday, is that right?'

‘Oh, no! Of
course
not!'

‘Good. And, about your front window, you need it fixed?'

‘Well yes, I suppose.' I look at him puzzled.

‘I used to be a glazier, is that right?'

‘Well, if you say so, then I suppose it is.'

‘I can fix it for you.'

‘Oh, fantastic!' I say with a marked increase of enthusiasm. ‘That's really fantastic!'

‘Harold! How
nice
of you! And while you're fixing it, I'll come along and spend the day with my darling grandchildren, and you of course, dear.' Mum beams at me, then her fiancé, then her darling grandchildren, and then the table in general.

‘Okay, enough of the social planning. Now for our announcement.' David is still standing and he pulls Diane to her feet as well. ‘Di and I are thrilled –
thrilled
– to tell you that next February will also be a big month for us. We're going to become parents again.'

‘
What
?!'

‘Congratulations!'

‘Wie
alt
ist sie?'

‘Oh my!'

‘And there's more.' David grins at his wife. ‘Literally more! Apparently it's twins –
two
beautiful baby girls!'

‘You're
kidding
!'

‘My god!'

‘Das gibt's doch gar nicht!'

‘Double congratulations!'

‘Oh, Diane! I am so, so pleased for you!' My mother gets up from her chair and goes over to give Diane an enormous hug, once again proving me wrong.
I
thought she would be put out at sharing the glory, but she seems genuinely thrilled. In the spirit of the moment, she hugs David as well and then turns to hug Diane yet again. Harold is still beaming, Elizabeth jumps up to hug Diane as well, the younger crowd is clapping, Joanne just sits there with a rather stupid smile on her face, Phillip shakes David's hand and Terry leans over to pat David on the back. This is turning into one of those ghastly group-hug things that Americans are seen to indulge in frequently (at least on their sitcoms they do). Suddenly I realise that I have a stupid grin on my face too. I hold up my glass.

‘A toast! To the twins!'

‘To the twins!' Nineteen voices simultaneously repeat the words loudly, and everybody reaches for a glass, any glass. My mother hugs Diane once more and I realise that she has tears in her eyes – my mother that is, not Diane. While I am watching her the smile slides ever so slightly off her face for just a moment,
and I can see genuine concern there as well, but only for a moment, and then the smile is firmly fixed back in place. She genteelly dabs at her eyes as she heads back to her seat. Because I am still looking at her in astonishment, I notice, as she turns, that my face is plastered on the left cheek of her butt.

Now obviously this surprises me just a little. I mean, there are very few pictures of me in her
house
, let alone on her body. But sure enough, there I am, plastered on the seat of her white linen pantsuit, grimacing madly and waving a placard.
Now
I know what happened to Elizabeth's newspaper. Just as I put two and two together my mother reaches her seat, rearranges the newspaper that is nestled on it, and sits back down. She looks up, sees me staring at her, and gives me a collusive wink.

Okay, this keeps getting weirder. Obviously at some point my mother has purloined Elizabeth's newspaper (maybe it's genetic), either to make herself more comfortable or, strange as it may seem, to
protect me
by preventing Elizabeth from brandishing it about in company. The downside to what
may
be perceived as an attempt at a good deed is that, unbeknownst to her, the newsprint – and I – have been transferred to the left cheek of her butt.
And
she winked. At me.

I pour myself another wine and debate on whether or not to inform her of her black-and-grey accessory. Perhaps I could break it to her by telling her a joke. What's black and white and red (read) all over? C'mon, c'mon, can you guess? It's your butt!

Hmm, maybe later.

I notice that the younger crowd appears to have broken up slightly. Nick and Bronte are the only ones sitting over at the plastic table now, still heavily involved in their deep and meaningful. Perhaps this really
is
the beginning of a new relationship? Phillip is graphically explaining to an absolutely rapt Benjamin, and a mildly interested Michael, some of the things that happen in the daily ritual of a vet, while Evan and Christopher are sitting on the grass keeping Sara company, and Sam is having a pretty indepth conversation of her own – with Harold. Weirder and weirder. Perhaps he's filling her in on ‘Sibling Rivalry: The Relationship between Elizabeth and the Princes in the Tower'.

Caitlin and CJ have draped their frills, fringes and feather boas over the low-hanging branch of a tree to form a cubby and are having a marvellous time. It was a stroke of genius allowing CJ to have a friend over. Usually at family occasions you can't move without tripping over her, and then she complains.

Terry and Elizabeth have both squeezed in next to David and Diane, and are deep in a discussion about possible girls' names. On the other side of the table, Joanne is earnestly explaining her dress code to my mother. Apparantly she chooses her ensemble each day to suit her mood and the current all black get-up reflects how depressed she felt this morning. Although now, she says with a rueful expression on her face, it's quite obvious that rainbow hues would have been far more appropriate – but who would have guessed? I shake my head in wonder and make a mental note to
share this fashion tip with Terry. For now I just take a sip of wine and lean back. I know that I should go and fetch the desserts, or more nibbles, or coffee, or
something
, but I feel very lazy and relaxed. It's all going rather smoothly and I'm really enjoying myself.