The Alphabet Sisters (57 page)

If things weren’t going well in Shed Land, it was like having a bee in the house. He was always around, offering help that wasn’t needed and getting in the way. A real sign of his frustration was when he shut the tin door of the shed loudly enough for them to hear over their pop music, strode into the kitchen, turned off the stove or the grill and declared that he was feeling housebound and was going to take the five of them out for dinner somewhere. They usually ended up at Bellerive beach, eating fish and chips at one of the wooden tables by the water. Money was always too tight for restaurants.

“Morning, everyone.” It was Clementine, still in her pajamas, her school blazer over the top, her long, dark hair tied back into a ponytail.

Four voices answered in a singsong way. “Morning, Clementine.”

Clementine had barely taken her seat when she stood up again, pushed back her chair and made a dash for the bathroom down the hallway. Eliza and Juliet looked at each other. Miranda kept reading. Sadie began to look ill herself.

Clementine came back, white-faced, clutching a washcloth. “Sorry about that.”

Juliet looked closely at her little sister. Clementine was always pale—all five of them were—so that was nothing new, but she did look especially peaky this morning. “Were you sick?”

Clementine nodded.

Juliet guided her gently into a chair and rested a hand on her forehead. She could remember sitting in that chair and having their mother do the same thing to her. It had felt so cool and comforting. It had always made her feel a little better, straightaway. “You don’t have a temperature, Clemmie. It must just be a bug.”

“Poor Clemmie,” Miranda said. As Sadie leaned past her to the sugar bowl, she made an exaggerated face, flapping her hands in front of her nose. “Breathing in Sadie’s alcoholic fumes would give anyone a bug. What time did you get in last night, Sadie? I really don’t think you are taking your studies seriously, young lady.”

“You’re just jealous because I have a good social life and you don’t,” Sadie said, putting three spoons of sugar into her tea.

“I have an extraordinary social life. It’s just that I also have an extraordinary working life, unlike you two layabouts. Thank God I decided against going to university. Look what it’s doing to the two of you. Turning you into hippies in front of our eyes.”

“I’m not a hippie,” Sadie said.

“What’s wrong with being a hippie anyway?” Eliza asked.

“Nothing’s wrong with being a hippie in the same way that nothing’s wrong with being a smelly old dog lying around in front of a fire. It’s just not what I want to be.”

“You think you are so perfect, Miranda,” Sadie said. “You’re not. You’re so superficial. All you care about is makeup and clothes—”

“And perfume,” Miranda said. “Don’t forget perfume. And I’m reasonably interested in magazines, fake compliments and men buying me drinks.”

Juliet stepped in. “Do you want to try some toast now, Clemmie?”

“No, thanks. I’ll skip breakfast.”

“You’re not on a diet again, are you, Clementine?” Miranda said. “The pressures of impending fame getting to you?”

She managed a smile. “Something like that.”

“Everything okay with the play?” Juliet asked. Clementine had been out late each night that week doing final rehearsals for her school play, on top of all the weekend run-throughs. She had a walk-on role as a pirate and a credit in the program as assistant set designer. Juliet had been very pleased to hear it. Clementine was usually more scientific than artistic and not usually this enthusiastic about afterschool activities. Juliet had discovered the real reason two weeks earlier, when she spotted Clementine and David Simpson, the boy playing the lead role in the play, holding hands as they walked down Elizabeth Street.

“It’s fine. Why?”

Juliet shrugged. “You’ve seemed distracted the last couple of weeks.”

“It’s all fine. Just busy. But there—”

“Juliet, are there any eggs left?” Sadie interrupted. She always went for seconds. Miranda called her the Human Scrapbin to her face, Piggly-Wiggly behind her back.

“In the pan. Help yourself.”

“Would you serve it up for me? Please?”

“No bones in your arms?” Juliet asked.

Sadie waggled her arms in a floppy way.

“Fall for that and you’re a fool, Juliet,” Miranda murmured, flicking the page of the paper.

Juliet served Sadie anyway.

“Where’s Dad?” Clementine asked.

“Shed Land,” Juliet, Miranda, Sadie, and Eliza said together.

“No, he’s not, he’s here. Morning, my lovelies.” Leo Faraday came through the side door, bringing a gust of the cool morning air with him. He was dressed in a wide-lapeled gray suit, a crisp white shirt and a blue patterned tie. His hair had been slicked back, the usual dark-red quiff smoothed over. “And yes, before you feel duty-bound to point it out, I do look extremely smart today and yes, I do have a meeting. Juliet, breakfast smells delicious. Miranda, what is that black stuff around your eyes; you look like a lady of the night. Eliza, have you been for a run already? Sadie, pick up your boots, would you? What’s up with you, Clementine? You look like a wet dishrag.”

“She’s got a stomach bug,” Juliet said.

“Poor chicken.” His concerned words rang false. He was smiling from ear to ear.

Juliet passed across the blue cup and saucer. “Everything all right, Dad? What’s going on out there?”

“Good things, Juliet. Interesting things. Unusual things.”

“In your mind, or in reality?” Miranda asked.

“We hardly see you anymore, Dad,” Sadie complained.

Leo put down his cup and rubbed his hands together. “Something hot is a-cooking out there, my girls. Something is nearly at boiling point. This time I really think—”

“Good heavens, is that the time?” Miranda said in an overly dramatic tone. They’d all had too many years of his invention talk. The revolutionary motor oil that put their old car off the road for three months. The device designed to repel spiders that had done exactly the opposite. The electronic rain gauge that burst into flames on its first test run. “I’d better finish getting ready or I’ll be late.”

Clementine stood up and ran to the bathroom again, clutching the washcloth to her lips. They all heard the door slam.

“My word, she’s a sensitive soul,” Miranda remarked, looking after her. “Clemmie, it’s all right, I’ll be back after work.”

Clementine returned a few minutes later, pale-faced. “Sorry.”

“Have you been sick again?” At Clementine’s nod, Juliet felt her sister’s forehead once more. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Leo felt her forehead too. “You’re not hot, but you are a bit clammy.”

“Clemmie’s clammy,” Sadie said.

Miranda gave a bark of laughter. Sadie looked pleased. She liked making Miranda laugh.

“Have you eaten anything unusual?” Leo asked. “It’s not food poisoning, is it?”

“No, I’m sure it’s not.”

“Too many late nights, that’s what it is,” Sadie said. “The sooner that romance—oh, I’m sorry, Clementine—the sooner that
play
is over, the better.”

“What will I wear on opening night?” Miranda asked. “My blue gown or that amusing little lace number my couturier sent over from Paris last week? What about you, Sadie? Will you wear that sweater made of yak hair or perhaps that simply darling little patchouli-steeped handweave I saw you prancing about in last week? How many small rodents died in the making of that, I wonder?”

Leo was still concerned. “Clementine, I’m not sure you should go to school today. You really do look peaky.”

“I think she should go to the doctor. That’s the third morning this week she’s been sick,” Sadie said.

“Third time this week?” Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t realize that. Uh-oh. It’s morning. She’s sick. Put ’em together and what do we see? P-r-e-g-n-a-n-cee.”

There should have been a laugh from one of her sisters. There should have been a denial from Clementine. There should have been a rebuke from Leo, and a smart answer back from Miranda.

Instead there was silence.

Juliet knew, right then. Was it Clementine’s expression? The fact that her forehead hadn’t actually felt that clammy or hot? The knowledge that this David of the play was all that Clementine had talked about for weeks? Whatever it was, Juliet wasn’t able to stop the words.

“Clementine? Is Miranda right? Are you pregnant?”

Leo laughed. “Juliet, for heaven’s sake. She’s sixteen years—”

“Yes, I am.”

“—old.” He swallowed. “Tell me you’re agreeing to the fact you are sixteen, Clementine, not—”

“I’m pregnant, Dad.”

“Oh Holy God.”

The room fell quiet. No cups being picked up, no cutlery being used, no newspaper being read. Just Clementine at one end of the table and her four sisters and father in the other chairs, staring at her, dumbstruck.

Her expression was calm, even if her hands were clenched. In her pink-and-white-striped pajamas, she looked even younger than sixteen. Her long hair had come out of its ponytail and was now in a tumble around her shoulders. “I’m three months pregnant. I went to the doctor yesterday.”

An intake of breath. Juliet didn’t know if it had come from her or one of her sisters.

Leo’s voice was very low. “Who, Clementine? How?”

She gave her father a withering look. “Dad, please. It’s David’s.”

“David?”

“David Simpson. Her boyfriend,” Sadie said.

“Since when did you have a boyfriend?” Leo was staring at Clementine as if she was a stranger at the table.

Juliet answered for her. “She’s been going out with David for months. He’s in the play with her.”

Leo stared around the table. “Why don’t I know any of this?”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Oh, I think that might have been worth a little visit to Shed Land. ‘Excuse me, Dad, we think you should know that your sixteen-year-old daughter is sleeping around—’ ”

“
Dad
!” Juliet and Miranda spoke as one.

Clementine was still calm. “I wasn’t sleeping around. I slept with David. Only David.”

“Who is this David?”

“He’s the pirate king in the play.”

Leo stood up abruptly. “That makes it better. That makes it okay. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum; by the way, I’ve made your daughter pregnant, Mr. Faraday.”

“We did it together, Dad. David didn’t
make
me do anything.”

“But you’re just children.” Leo was now behind the chair, his hands on the backrest. His knuckles were white. “I can’t believe this. Just when I thought things were getting better for us. Two of you with jobs, two of you at university, you showing such promise at school, Clementine. Good times ahead for us again as a family at last—”

Clementine stood up too. “We’re talking about a baby, Dad, not a nuclear war.”

“You’re sixteen, Clementine.
Sixteen
. Have you any idea what lies ahead of you? Years of nappies and no sleep. It’s hell having babies. I should know, I had five of them.”

“Thank you very much.”

“There were two of us, your mother and I. We loved each other and we wanted all five of you, don’t try and twist my words. But it is hard. Very hard when there’s two of you, let alone one.”

“You’ve managed alone the past eight years.”

Leo’s face hardened. “You will not compare my situation to yours. What’s got into you, Clementine?”

“David, it seems,” Miranda said.

Leo pushed the chair. It clattered against the table. “That’s enough, Miranda. Outside.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“No, I’m not going to miss this. We need to hear it together. I’ll go if Clementine wants me to go, but otherwise I’m staying.”

“Clementine?”

“Stay, Miranda. I want everyone to stay. I was going to tell you all soon, I promise. Tonight. Or tomorrow. After I’d told David—”

“You haven’t told David yet?” Leo was incredulous.

“I was waiting until after the play.”

Miranda snorted. “In case it puts him off his performance?”

“Miranda, I’m warning you. Shut up.” Leo reached for his coat. “Right, Clementine. Go and get dressed. We’re going to go and tell him now. You and me. See what he’s got to say for himself. His parents too.”

“I’m not telling him in front of you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair has nothing to do with this.” The conversation was only between Leo and Clementine now. He ran his fingers through his hair. The dark-red quiff stood straight up. “You’ll tell him in front of me, and we’ll set a wedding date today if we have to. You’re three months, you said. If we move quickly, we can go and see Father Cavalli this afternoon, get everything underway before—”

“Dad, I’m not marrying him.”

“No daughter of mine is going to live in sin.”