Authors: Ilsa Evans
‘Sorry, Jill.’ Margaret looked even more distressed now. ‘I didn’t mean to poke my nose in. I’m just – well, that is . . .’
‘It’s okay, Margaret. Really, it’s okay.’
‘Oh,’ said Sybil, giving a rather philosophical sigh.
‘Let’s change the subject,’ piped Emily brightly. ‘Adam. Tim. I’m surprised you two haven’t ever met seeing as you both work in the same industry. So to speak.’
‘They’re not the same industry!’ Adam looked affronted. ‘I examine a building’s essence and bring it to life. All
he
does is give it a shell.’
‘A shell?’ Tim stared across at him. ‘A
shell
?’
‘Funny thing about shells,’ continued Emily blithely, ‘they always remind me of eggs. Weird, isn’t it? And eggs, of course, remind me of Easter.’
‘Actually,’ mused Sybil, ‘eggs always remind me of caviar.’
‘They remind
me
of Easter,’ said Emily, annoyed at the interruption, ‘so, speaking of Easter, what were you doing then, Adam?’
‘At Easter?’ repeated Adam, frowning first at his youngest sister and then at the other. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason. Just making conversation.’ Emily draped her arm around Tim’s shoulders. ‘What about you, Tim? What were you doing at Easter?’
‘Let me see . . .’ Tim looked up at the ceiling pensively. ‘Oh,
now
I remember! I went to an Easter egg hunt at Albert Park Lake. Got into an argument with a total jerk.’
‘And now
I
remember what
I
was doing.’ Adam narrowed his eyes across the room. ‘
I
went to an Easter egg hunt too. And while I was hunting for eggs, I saw some idiot having it off with the bloody Easter Bunny!’
‘My word!’
‘My god.’ Jill leant forward and helped herself to another scotch.
‘That’s right,’ Adam nodded empathetically, ‘the Easter Bunny. Behind a bush with the frigging Easter Bunny!’
‘Have I missed something?’ Jack limped back into the lounge-room and gave Adam an enquiring look. ‘Interesting life you lead, bro.’
‘Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, he
wasn’t
having it off with the Easter Bunny?’ asked Tim as Jack lowered himself painfully onto the three-seater beside his parents. ‘That maybe he was just helping the Easter Bunny because his zipper got jammed?’
‘With his
teeth
?’
‘Yes, with his teeth!’
‘Yeah? And maybe pigs might fly!’
‘Okay, okay!’ Emily raised a hand placatingly. ‘I would never have brought it up if I had known it was such a sore point. Are you
sure
you two don’t know each other?’
‘Absolutely.’ Adam leant back, folded his arms across his chest and looked over at the television set.
‘Anybody like a fairy-cake?’ asked Margaret, picking up the plate of cakes and holding them aloft. ‘They’re delicious. Really.’
‘Ask
him
.’ Adam jabbed his head in Tim’s direction.
‘Given them up. Bad for your health.’
‘Bunch of weirdos,’ muttered James Carstairs.
‘But interesting,’ said Sybil, stretching out one long leg and examining it briefly before recrossing it and smiling at the assorted company. ‘
Very
interesting.’
‘Bad for your health?’ repeated Margaret, lifting up a fairy-cake and examining it. ‘Surely not. It’s only a bit of flour, and sugar, and some hundreds and thousands.’
‘Let’s change the subject.’ Jill tucked her own legs underneath herself on the beanbag. ‘What horse did I get in the sweep?’
‘The sweep?’ repeated Emily with a frown.
‘The
sweep
!’ Jack stared at his wife. ‘The bloody sweep!’
‘And some eggs, and maybe some bicarb of soda .. .’
‘Let me guess,’ Jill said slowly, ‘you haven’t done the sweep yet?’
‘No!’
‘So, it’s, let me see . . .’ Jill examined her watch and sighed. ‘It’s fifteen minutes till the Melbourne Cup itself and you haven’t done the sweep. Haven’t cut the page from the newspaper, haven’t sold off the horses, haven’t drawn them out, or sorted the money into prizes. None of that?’
‘No. None of that.’
‘Running a bit late, aren’t we?’
‘Oh!’ Megan, who had reappeared again, gaped at her mother and, as tears filled her eyes, slapped her hand to her mouth and disappeared once more.
Jill watched the horses that were about to compete in the Melbourne Cup as they were led across velvety lawns as part of the pre-race parade. As usual, Flemington was dripping with perfectly blooming roses of all colours and sizes – vivid red and creamy white, duckling yellow and mandarin orange. And the weather was perfect as well. A clear spring day with nary a cloud in the sky, and just enough wind for the women to occasionally raise a manicured hand to hold down an elegant hat.
Jill glanced across at the other occupants of the lounge-room, all of whom were intent on the equine parade, calling out every so often when they spotted their particular horse. And that was another problem. This year Jill only had the two horses that she had drawn as part of the sweep, and no actual bets to give the race that added touch of spice. And this was mainly because her husband hadn’t bothered to ring and ask for her selections before he went down to the TAB this morning. He had
his
horses all covered, and had put on bets for Emily and Matt and Kate – and even Jill’s mother, judging by the grubby little TAB ticket she had clutched in one hand. But none for her.
Jill sent a brief filthy look over towards him and, to her surprise, caught him looking back at her. They stared at each
other for a few seconds, the filthy look being quickly replaced by an expressionless-ness that equalled his. Jack was the first to look away, staring back towards the television, so Jill watched him for a few more minutes and tried to work out whether she wanted him or not. But she found that the answer was obscured by the fact that he was so obviously upset. And hurt, and offended, and maybe even disappointed. In her. And his being upset was upsetting her in turn. Usually, if something bothered Jack, she could reach out, pour him a drink, sit with him for a while, and generally make things better somehow. But this time any help she offered would be superfluous, because she was the one causing the pain. And that hurt.
At the same time she felt bitter, and resentful, that her pain and confusion were now taking second place to his. And that her feelings were somehow devalued because they were now shared. Jill took a sip of her scotch and sighed. She didn’t understand it. Any of it.
Race Seven, 3.10 pm
‘At the half-mile mark it’s Additional Extra leading by a head to Lady Jacqueline. And Jack of Hearts is on the fence with Sound Bytes and Mercy Bucket two wide. Followed by Jiminy Cricket, Simba’s Pride, Miss Attention, and Equal Rights losing ground. Then Prince of Persia, Sergeant Major, followed by Turkish Delight and Superfluous back on the rails . . .’
‘Go, Superfluous! Go, you little beauty!’
‘Come on, Equal Rights! You can do it!’
‘Go, horthy! Go!’
‘. . . and two lengths away, bringing up the rear, is Magic Hands . . .’
‘Bloody
typical
!’
‘. . . It’s Additional Extra leading into the straight – no! Here comes Jack of Hearts kicking up on the inside with Miss Attention a head away! Jiminy Cricket’s being shown the whip down the outside! They’re followed by Simba’s Pride, Sergeant Major, Turkish Delight. Superfluous still squeezed in on the rails . . .’
‘Get
out
, Superfluous! Get
out
!’
‘Come
on
, Jack of Hearts! Come on!’
‘Where the hell has Equal Rights gone!’
‘. . . and five lengths away is Magic Hands, well back in the rear . . .’
‘Mummy, I feel thick.’
‘Two hundred metres to run in the Cup and it’s Additional Extra with Jack of Hearts going head to head. Here comes Jiminy Cricket on the outside, Additional Extra in the middle, Jack of Hearts on the rails! They’re going to hit the line head to head! And they’ve done it! They’ve hit the line in a row! Impossible to tell who got over first so it’ll go to a photo! It’ll go to a photo! They crossed the line nose to nose – only the proverbial bee’s between them . . .’
‘Please, please, please,’ muttered Jack, still sitting on the edge of his seat, his fingers crossed, ‘say Jack of Hearts. Say Jack of Hearts.’
‘What happened to Equal Rights?’ moaned Emily, shaking her head.
‘Don’t know why I bother.’ Adam began his methodical tearing up of TAB tickets.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Tim with a nod.
‘If you feel sick, Cricket,’ Jill put a hand on either side of Cricket’s face, which did look a little pale, ‘then go lie down and I’ll check on you in a minute. Must be something going around because Megan’s not well either.’
‘Did anyone have Additional Extra?’ asked Kate with interest.
Everyone shook their heads, their eyes still glued to the television set. The results of the photo finish were about five minutes away, according to the announcer. Meanwhile, the three jockeys in question and their horses milled awkwardly around the racecourse past the finish line, surrounded by a media pack waiting impatiently to film the triumphant return of the winning jockey. When they knew who it was.
Matt jumped up and went to check the Cup Sweep, which had been sticky-taped on the lounge-room side of the glass-panelled bi-folds. He ran through the list with his finger and then turned back to them.
‘Megan’s got Additional Extra, Mum’s got Jack of Hearts, and Kate’s got Jiminy Cricket.’
‘C’mon, Jiminy Cricket!’ called Kate.
‘
I
want Jimny Cricket!’ objected Cricket, jumping up and down with her hands on her hips. ‘I want Jimny Cricket!’
‘Feeling better now?’ queried her mother.
‘Yes. Much better. And Daddy, you said
I
had Jimny Cricket!’
‘That’s at the TAB, honey,’ said her father, his eyes still glued to the screen. ‘You’ve got a dollar each way. And if I were you lot, I’d start praying for Jack of Hearts to do the trick, because I’ve got twenty bucks riding on him, and at about fifteen dollars the win, that’ll mean we can afford to pick up the damn dog.’
‘Ah, the damn dog,’ sighed Jill, with a disgusted glance towards her son.
‘The numbers are in the frame. The results of the photo are in! The winner of the Melbourne Cup is Jack of Hearts! Jack of Hearts by a whisker!’
‘You bloody beauty!’ Jack leapt up, punching a fist into the air exuberantly. ‘You little bloody beauty!’
‘Shh! Quiet!’
‘. . . and coming in second place is Jiminy Cricket. And in third place is – hang on! [siren wails] There’s a protest! There’s a protest coming in!’
‘No!’ groaned Jack, flopping back onto the couch and grabbing handfuls of his hair. ‘No, no, no!’
‘It’s a protest against Additional Extra! Interference at the turn!’
‘Oh!’ Jack closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Who cares?’
‘Actually, I do,’ Tim said mildly. ‘If Additional Extra gets the boot, then Simba’s Pride might be placed. And he’s mine.’
‘Aren’t we moving up in the world,’ said Adam snidely, ‘from rabbits to lions in less than a year. Very impressive.’
‘And where did you end up?’ Tim bit back quickly. ‘Stuck in the rear, hey? Just for something different.’
‘So, Mum – you won the sweep!’ Matt grinned at her. ‘And, Kate, you’ve got second place and we’ll have to wait for third. If Simba’s Pride gets it, then that’s you, Grandma.’
‘My word!’
‘And the protest has been upheld. The stewards have declared the protest upheld. Additional Extra has been relegated to fourth place and third place will go to Simba’s Pride. And the official placings are as follows: first – Jack of Hearts, followed by Jiminy Cricket, followed by Simba’s Pride. And Additional Extra is relegated to fourth. Interim dividends should be up shortly. And for those of you with sweeps, last in was Magic Hands, who came well back in the rear.’
‘Ha, ha,’ spluttered Tim happily.
‘And that’s you, Tim!’ announced Matt, staring at the sweep list. ‘You’ve got Magic Hands here, so you get the prize for last.’
‘Ha, ha,’ interjected Adam dryly.
‘So how did we all go?’ asked Sybil, looking around the room. ‘Sounds like you did the best, Jack?’
‘Sure did,’ Jack said happily. ‘Twenty bucks on Jack of Hearts, and I even had five each way on Jiminy Cricket so I’ll get place money for that as well.’
‘I had five each way on Jack of Hearts too,’ announced Kate proudly.
‘And I had a tenner,’ said Emily. ‘We all went for that one because of the name – Jack of Hearts. How about you, Jill?’
‘I didn’t get to the TAB,’ replied Jill stiffly, ‘so, no, I didn’t have any money on it.’
‘Still, you had it in the sweep,’ consoled Matt, handing out the sweep envelopes for first, second and third. ‘That’s twenty-five dollars!’
‘Thanks,’ said Jill, taking the envelope and turning it over in her hands.
‘My word, thank you, love!’ Margaret beamed as she was handed her envelope, turning to her husband to show him. ‘Look, Jim, I won!’
‘Came third,’ he corrected.
‘And on that note, we’d better get going.’ Margaret stood, her envelope clutched tightly and smiled at everyone. ‘Had a lovely, time, thank you.’
‘But, Grandma,’ Matt objected, ‘we’re just about to play bingo! Can’t you stay for one more game? Bingo’s better with more.’
‘Sorry, Matthew, but we said we wouldn’t stay past the Cup so we’d better go.’
‘And there isn’t enough time, is there,’ Jack asked hopefully, ‘before the next race?’
‘Heaps of time,’ Matt said dismissively. ‘They allow extra after the Cup so there’s almost an hour.’
‘Oh.’
‘Grandpa,’ Kate added her voice, ‘what about you? Don’t you want to stay for bingo?’
‘Quite like bingo,’ said James Carstairs with surprise, as if he had only just become aware of this fondness. ‘Yes. Quite like bingo.’
‘Do you want to stay then?’ asked his wife.
‘Hmm . . .’ James stretched the moment, obviously enjoying the attention. ‘Yes, okay, we’ll stay – but just for bingo.’
‘Don’t stay on my account,’ muttered Emily, as she watched Matt and Kate lead their grandparents into the family room to start setting up the game. Through the doorway, Emily’s mother could be seen, sitting again at the head of the dining-room table, crocheting happily. Charlotte was sitting next to her, holding the wool patiently. Jill headed up the passage to
check on Megan, while Adam and Sybil followed the others into the family room and Jack remained perched on the couch, waiting for his dividends.
‘Can you explain now?’ asked Tim, putting his hand on her knee.
‘Um . . .’ Emily looked at his hand wistfully. What a beautifully shaped hand – and what a waste. She sighed. ‘No, not now. And don’t you have some explaining of your own to do?’
‘Ah.’
‘Yes – ah.’
‘Perhaps we’d better join them in a game of bingo first?’
‘Perhaps we’d better.’ Emily stood and stretched, before preceding Tim into the family room. There was already a considerable crowd around the table and Matt had fetched some black folding chairs from somewhere to bolster the seating arrangements. As everybody found themselves a seat, Jack came in from the lounge-room, his pleased expression testament to favourable dividends, and Jill emerged from the passage with a pale Megan in tow. Emily flashed the girl a look of concern but she didn’t manage to catch her eye.
Quickly they all got settled, with Emily’s mother retaining her head of the table seat. Next to her was Charlotte, then Cricket, Jill, James Carstairs, his wife and Adam to her right. Next to Adam, at the other end of the table, sat Matt, with the bingo apparatus set up in front of him, and then came Kate, Tim, Emily, Megan, Jack and then Sybil on Mary’s left. The arrangement was such that those least likely to talk to each other, such as Jack and Jill or Adam and Tim, did not end up in neighbouring seats, but nevertheless had the option of glaring across the table at each other if they felt so inclined.
Matt handed out square pieces of paper covered with rows of numbers to each person and then placed the red plastic tumbler full of pens in the centre of the table for everyone to
help themselves. At the sight of the tumbler, Emily glanced over at Megan and, this time, managed to catch her eye. But the girl simply flushed and looked away quickly. While everyone sorted themselves out, Matt turned the lever on the side of the bingo apparatus, churning the tiny white balls inside into a clattering frenzy, and his mother organised a platter of rye crackers, cherry tomatoes and cheese and brought it over to the table. Emily noticed that her sister also took the time to replenish her drink, which she had been doing on a regular basis for the past two hours.
‘Okay, let’s start!’ commanded Matt, turning the lever and picking up the first ball that popped out of the apparatus. ‘And it’s eleven! That’s lucky legs eleven!’
‘Bingo!’ sang out Emily’s mother happily.
‘No, Mum.’ Jill leant across and pointed to her mother’s card. ‘You have to have all the numbers for bingo. See, all these? That’s bingo.’
‘Next we have two fat ladies – eighty-eight!’ continued Matt in his announcer’s voice.
‘Bingo!’ sang out Emily’s mother happily.
‘Mum,’ Emily called down to her mother, ‘how about I keep an eye on your card and tell you when you’re getting close?’
‘Good try.’ Mary narrowed her eyes at her daughter. ‘I’ve seen you in action. Remember the pen?’
‘Fine, then let Jill do it.’
‘And next is snake’s eyes, that’s number two. Number two. Then we have the key to the door – twenty-one. That’s twenty-one. And now for another fat lady all by herself. That’s number eight, lonely fat lady –’
‘Enough with the fat ladies!’ shrieked Megan, slamming her pen down and glaring at her brother. Everyone, including said brother, stared at Megan with surprise.
‘Are you okay, Megan?’ asked her mother with a frown.
‘I need a drink,’ announced Emily, standing up. ‘A double. Anyone else?’
‘My word, are you sure that’s wise?’ asked Margaret Carstairs hesitantly. ‘I mean . . .’
‘Yes,’ agreed Jill, now turning her frown on Emily. ‘I
know
you don’t want to talk about it, Emily, but it’s really dangerous for the baby to drink as much as you are at the moment.
Really
dangerous.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Are we playing this game,’ asked Matt with irritation, ‘or not?’
‘That’s a pretty irresponsible attitude, Em.’ Adam joined the chorus, looking at her with disapproval.
‘Sorry – but I have to agree,’ Jack nodded. ‘You’ll regret it, you know.’
‘You’re not just thinking of yourself now,’ continued Jill, ‘there’s a baby to consider.’
‘Stop!’ Megan suddenly screamed, staring wildly around the table. ‘It’s not her! It’s me! It’s me! It’s me!’
‘Now I really need a drink,’ commented Emily, sitting down again.
‘What are you talking about?’ Jill had transferred her frown straight across to her daughter. ‘What do you mean “it’s me”?’
‘Yes, Megan, what
are
you talking about?’ asked her father, although Megan could tell that understanding was dawning on Jack, who had gone a greenish-white colour while his wife just looked totally confused.
‘It’s me!
I’m
the one who’s pregnant – not Emily. She only said so to cover up for me, you know, so that I’d have more time to tell you.’
‘What?’
‘I only did it once!’ Megan started crying, tears spilling
down her cheeks unwiped, and then she lowered her voice to a plaintive whine. ‘Only once, and I’m pregnant. I really am – and it was only one time. Only
one
!’
‘Bingo!’ called Emily’s mother happily.
‘I don’t believe this.’ Jill looked across at Jack automatically, as if waiting for him to tell her that it was all a mistake. ‘I don’t. I don’t believe this.’
‘Sorry,’ said Emily quietly, ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘You knew!’ Jill turned on Emily. ‘You knew and you didn’t tell me!’
‘Then you’re
not
pregnant!’ Tim let out a big breath and shook his head with relief. ‘Wow! Is
that
a load off my shoulders!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ snapped Emily. ‘As if it would have had anything to do with you anyway.’
‘Ah,’ said Adam complacently, ‘thought not.’
‘Megan, what’s his name?’ asked Jack, in an ominously low voice.
‘Justin,’ sobbed Megan, pulling out a ragged looking tissue from her jeans and wiping her eyes. ‘It was Justin.’
‘Just in, just out – makes no difference,’ mused Mary sagely. ‘That’s how I got pregnant with . . . let me see – Adam. I think it was you, Adam. See, your father and I didn’t want any more babies after Jillian, so we’d been practising coitus interruptus but this night we hadn’t even started and –’