Authors: Ilsa Evans
‘I know. And hopefully he’ll be straight.’
‘Not too upset about that?’
‘Not at all,’ said Emily truthfully. ‘In fact, I’m feeling a bit excited now that I’ve got a plan. Hong Kong, here I come! Home of satay chicken, rickshaws and cheap DVDs. Who needs a hero on horseback, anyway? Unless, that is, he’s a well-informed jockey with a good tip for the next race. Jill, go grab the champagne bottle from Sybil and we’ll toast my newfound direction.’
Over at the table, Matt was declaring a throw of three hearts
and the players were calling out some complicated maths, because apparently a throw of the same three meant a bonus payout. Emily put the dry mug down on the island bench with all the other crockery she didn’t know where to put, and watched as Jill hunted the bottle of champagne down. When she had first started speaking to her sister fifteen minutes or so before, she had had little idea of what she wanted to do – only that it wasn’t this. Because she had been speaking the truth when she said that she had enjoyed herself,
especially
now that she was not about to be a great-aunt, but it was not an experience that she wanted to repeat in a hurry. Actually, she was quite looking forward to leaving it all behind for Jill to cope with. The tired husband, directionless son, sexually active daughter, black-clad monosyllabic teenager, profane toddler, broken window, comatose dog, never-ending dirty dishes, corn chips on the carpet . . . the list went on. And Jill could have the lot.
Jill finally ran the bottle of champagne to ground under the far end of the dining-room table by Sybil’s foot. When she stood up with it, Matt was just calling for the last round of crown and anchor before the next race, so Jill placed a two-dollar coin neatly down in the centre of each of the six squares. She smiled evenly at Jack, who was looking at her with surprise because normally she wasn’t much of a gambler, and then watched as Matt shook the dice vigorously. Let this be a sign, she prayed, let this be a sign of what she should do. Whatever the dice landed on would signify something different. Crowns would mean sacrifice, anchors would mean staying put, clubs
would mean embracing the single life, spades would mean simply digging herself a grave, diamonds would also mean embracing the single life – just aiming slightly higher – and hearts would mean, well . . . Jill looked across at Jack again and sighed. She didn’t know what hearts would mean. She’d work it out later.
‘Here we go!’ yelled Matt as he threw the dice across the table. They bounced against the assorted coins spread over the felt and then tumbled to a halt right in front of Jill. An anchor and two hearts.
‘You little beauty!’ Adam punched a fist into the air with delight. ‘I might be lousy at the horses, but I’m a devil at this crown and anchor!’
‘Yeah,’ muttered Matt crossly, looking at his uncle’s five-dollar note sitting in the hearts square.
‘Did I win anything?’ called Emily from the kitchen.
‘Nah,’ Jack replied from the table, ‘the only time crowns came up was when you didn’t have any money there.’
‘Typical.’
Matt covered the bets from what looked like a rather depleted pile of change in front of him, and then slipped the dice back into their container. As the winners collected their money and the losers counted their losses, everyone slowly moved away from the table. Jill ended up exactly even from her little experiment, monetarily speaking, and none the wiser. What did an anchor and two hearts mean?
‘How did you go, Kate?’ asked Jack as Kate poured her winnings into a pottery piggy bank. ‘Win much?’
‘Heaps,’ answered Kate proudly. ‘About seven dollars.’
‘And how did the bank go, Matt?’
‘Not so good,’ mumbled the bank unhappily. ‘The only one I won any money from was Aunt Emily.’
‘Glad to be of service,’ called Emily.
‘Never mind.’ Jill put the bottle of champagne down on the bench. ‘You won’t need money in the
Big Brother
house.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Charlotte,’ said Jack politely, ‘how did you go?’
‘Good, thank you, Uncle Jack.’
‘Okay.’ Jack slipped his wallet into his back pocket and looked up at the clock. ‘Ten minutes till the last race. I’m going in to watch them line up.’
‘Me too.’ Sybil picked up her champagne flute and followed Jack into the lounge-room. The sound on the television set was immediately turned up and the voice of the commentator could be heard describing the scenes unfolding at Flemington.
Jill watched Sybil follow her husband and turned to Emily. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with that woman, but I bet it’s really hard to pronounce.’
‘Egocentricity,’ pronounced Charlotte, materialising next to her aunt. ‘It’s only six syllables, but it’s easy to fumble up. E-gocen-tric-i-ty.’
‘Here you go.’ Emily reached across the bench and ladled punch into a cup, making sure that plenty of the vegetables were included. ‘Take this and go into the lounge-room. Actually,’ she turned back to Jill, ‘Sybil’s really quite nice when you speak to her. Very witty.’
‘Yeah, sure. I can’t believe she’s Will’s cousin. I also can’t believe that Corinne didn’t warn me.’ Jill watched Charlotte leave the room, the cup of punch held out in front of her as if it were radioactive. ‘And I’ve been meaning to ask you – who on earth made that punch?’
‘Your daughters.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. Perhaps you’d better include some cookery lessons with the sex education.’
‘Very funny.’ Jill grinned at Adam as he walked past behind
Tim, and sent him some mental best wishes. Then she hoisted herself back up onto the stool and poured out two glasses of champagne. She passed one over to Emily.
‘To you!’ Jill lifted her flute in salute. ‘May all your plans bear fruit!’
‘But without the fruit!’
‘Yes, there is that.’ Jill took a sip of champagne and put the glass down in front of her. ‘Hey, has Corinne rung?’
Emily paused with her tea-towel draped over a plate. ‘No – that’s odd. I thought she would have rung at least half a dozen times by now.’
‘Oh, she’s probably just flat-out trying to convince Will not to bring his father down.’
‘Poor Will.’
‘Yes, poor Will.’
They both fell silent as each contemplated what life would be like with their eldest sister. Jill shuddered and quickly wiped the images from her mind. Emily stacked the dry dishes on the island bench and turned back to Jill.
‘Where do these go?’
‘Up there.’ Jill pointed up to an overhead cupboard. ‘So – what do you think I should do? About me, I mean.’
‘I don’t know. Are you sure you want to give all this –’ Emily paused as she waved a hand around the room – ‘give all this up?’
Jill followed the sweep of her sister’s hand and then sighed. ‘No, in fact I don’t.’
‘Then don’t. And what about Jack?’
‘Not him either.’ Jill suddenly realised that it was true, she
didn’t
want to give Jack up. Maybe she wasn’t in love with that same sense of urgency that had so consumed her during their early years, but she definitely still loved him. Just in a more entrenched, profound way that was given depth by their
shared history. And even the knowledge that he was upset with her at the moment, and feeling hurt, was disturbing enough to hurt her in turn – in fact, it made everything so much worse. She hated seeing him suffer – and knowing that she was the cause was hard to take. Yes, there was no doubt she loved him, and no doubt that she didn’t want to lose him. Even the thought of doing without his support, his companionship – his very
presence
– was both frightening and inconceivable. But, then again, so was continuing on the way she had been.
Jill sighed and took another sip of champagne. As she tried to come up with some answers, or even a singular answer, she watched Emily open cupboards and drawers, searching for places to put the mound of dried crockery spread over the bench.
‘So what are you going to do?’ Emily held up two mugs and Jill pointed over to a narrow cupboard by the microwave.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Just go back to the way you’ve been going?’
‘Impossible.’
Emily looked at her sister with an irritated fondness. ‘Well, then, you’ve got to talk to Jack, don’t you? If you go on the way you have been, and hating it, then you
will
end up losing everything.’
‘I know.’ Jill fiddled with the stem of her flute miserably. ‘It’s like I’ve been travelling down this same road for ages, and in the beginning it was all paved and easy-going. But in the past few years I’ve hit the dirt, and I can’t seem to get off it.’
‘That’s very poetic,’ Emily said admiringly as she pointed to a delft-patterned dish. ‘Where does this go?’
‘Up there,’ Jill gestured lethargically and then continued: ‘And using that roads analogy, I could also describe the way I’m feeling right now as having reached all these different pathways and I’m not sure which one I should take. Like I’m
standing in the middle at some sort of junction.’
‘Forks?’
‘Yes, that’s right – forks. That’s it exactly. And I’ve got no idea which one to take.’
‘No,’ said Emily patiently, holding up a handful of dessert forks. ‘I meant where do these go?’
‘Oh. In the drawer. Second one down.’
‘Go on,’ encouraged Emily, opening the drawer and depositing the forks within.
‘That’s it, really. I don’t know where to go from here.’
‘Are there gonna be any more games, Mummy?’ asked Cricket, tugging on her mother’s jeans. ‘Are there?’
‘The only game I’m playing is hopscotch,’ commented Emily, hanging the tea-towel up and proudly surveying the empty sink. ‘As in, if your mum pours me a scotch, I’ll hop over to it.’
‘You’re funny, Auntie Em.’
‘I aim to please.’
‘The last race is on!’ called Adam from the lounge-room. ‘Get a move on if you want to see it!’
‘I’ve got money on this one!’ Emily dashed out from behind the island bench and hurried next door with Cricket hot on her heels. And, for the first time in several hours, Jill was left alone. She swivelled around on the stool casually, looking over at the kitchen which, although the sink was relatively clean, still bore evidence of a day’s entertainment. Apart from the revolting looking punch, all the day’s leftovers were scattered over the bench-tops and even balanced on the hotplates. Taco mince, taco shells, salads, sour cream, pavlova, cheesecake – all waiting to be covered and stored. And over on the dining-table, the green felt crown and anchor covering had been left for someone else to tidy up. No doubt the players had thought that whoever felt inclined to collect all the dirty glasses and
empty soft drink bottles might as well clean up the game while they were at it.
The sound on the television was turned up and the shouted words of encouragement for various horses rose to match it. Jill took a deep breath and wondered about her predicament. There simply didn’t seem any way out of it. While she was very relieved to have reached a decision about her marriage, and sincerely hoped that Jack would feel the same way, there was still the minor matter of her sanity. And the unmistakable fact that its precarious balancing act could not be sustained if she elected to keep living the way she had been. And Emily was right: if she closed her eyes and ignored the situation, she might very well end up losing everything. Including Jack. And, having just decided that she wanted him after all, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
Race Ten, 5.20 pm
With the last race over, the television camera panned across the remains of the day at Flemington Racecourse. Crowds of racegoers thronged the car park, with their meticulous ensembles now fraying at the edges – shoes missing, ties loosened, faces flushed. One car even bore someone’s black lacy bra hooked proudly on the antenna. Back in the enclosure, a few determined stragglers lurched around with champagne still in hand as they searched for something, or someone. Or maybe even the bra. The stands were littered with food scraps, deserted belongings, and delighted pigeons. Around the track itself, overflowing bins released the odd piece of rubbish, which then blew over and over in the breeze until it reached the perimeter fence and plastered itself against the wire, as if hungry for an unattainable freedom.
‘I’m done.’ Emily stood up and smoothed her pants down. ‘I hereby officially hand your life back to you, Jill.’
‘Don’t make me laugh.’ Jill grinned from her position leaning in the doorway. ‘You wouldn’t have the faintest idea what my life’s about – all you did was wash a few dishes right at the end.’
‘But I washed them well.’
‘How did you lot do on the day?’ Jack looked over at Kate, who was busily adding up the children’s total on their results sheet.
‘I did the best,’ Kate said when she’d finished tallying. ‘I got seven dollars twenty all up, next was Charlotte with five dollars twenty, then Matt four dollars even, and last was Cricket with a dollar eighty. Megan only picked a few horses and none of them came anywhere.’
‘Okay then.’ Jack heaved himself out of his chair, flinching and holding on to his thigh with a Band-Aided hand. ‘Come into the family room and I’ll pay you all off.’
‘What about the prizes?’ asked Matt as he followed his father. ‘We missed heaps of games, so there’s leftovers. Can we share them out?’
‘You can pick another prize each,’ instructed Jill as they trooped past her in the doorway. ‘Go from youngest to oldest, that way there’ll be no arguments.’
‘See?’ Emily looked at her admiringly. ‘I would never have thought of that.’
‘I suppose I’d better be off as well,’ said Adam, without making a move. ‘Yes, things to do, places to go. You know how it is.’
‘Do you want a lift home, Emily?’ asked Tim.
‘Hmm, I’ve got a better idea.’
‘So do I,’ announced Sybil surprisingly.
Emily shot her an amused look. ‘Mine first. Adam, you take Mum back to her place to give Jill and Jack a chance to – relax. But you might need some help with her, so, Tim, you go with him and give him a hand if he needs one. Then Adam can give you a lift back to town. I’ll take Tim’s car back. How does that sound?’
‘You’re not driving my car,’ said Tim rudely, ‘you’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Finished!’ Emily’s mother sighed proudly and then flipped out a crocheted rug to show them. Covered with patches of red and yellow and magenta, it also included a large section of pea-green angora wool so that it looked like that particular area had turned mildewy at some stage.
‘Oh, lovely, Mum.’
‘Yes – superb.’
‘Take it, take it!’ Mary thrust it across at Sybil, who was staring at it with horror. ‘It’s for you! To cover up those legs of yours.’
‘Um, thank you.’ Sybil draped the rug across her legs and looked at it doubtfully. ‘So kind. So lovely.’
‘My pleasure.’ Mary packed up her crocheting bag and rested it on her lap, peering around at everyone. ‘I’m finished now. Time to go.’
‘Actually,’ Adam said slowly, ‘part of your suggestion had merit, Em –’
‘
Not
the part about my MG,’ interrupted Tim.
‘No, not that part. The bit about me giving Mum a lift.’
‘But you’ll need help,’ interjected Emily, not so much because her mother was looking decrepit, which she wasn’t, but because she was now determined to thrust her brother back with Tim. Even if it didn’t work out, at least it would have had a chance.
‘Yes, probably. What do you say, Tim, would you do me a favour?’
‘A favour?’ repeated Tim, looking over at Adam with his eyebrows raised.
‘A favour.’
‘Let me see . . .’
‘Just say yes or no,’ said Adam mildly. ‘I won’t hold it against you.’
‘Don’t make promises you mightn’t keep,’ instructed Emily.
‘Well . . .’ Tim strung the moment out. ‘Yes, okay. Let’s do it.’
‘Great!’
‘But we’ll take my car.’ Tim flashed a distrustful look at Emily. ‘We’ll come by here afterwards and you can grab yours then.’
‘No problem!’ Adam stood up and beamed at Jill. ‘Thanks for having me, sis, had a great time. And I mean that – I vote we have it here every year. Less of that anal retention happening.’
‘Ha!’ Emily laughed and then looked stricken when she realised nobody was laughing with her. ‘Oh, sorry. I thought you were making a joke.’
‘Ah – no,’ Adam shook his head fondly. ‘Idiot. Okay, come on, Mum.’
‘Thank you, Adam.’ Mary allowed herself to be helped out of her chair and Jill moved forward to give her a kiss. ‘Bye, dear, lovely time. And thank you for my little penis.’
‘Did you say . . .’ Jack, who had just arrived back in the lounge-room, looked from his mother-in-law to his wife with confusion. ‘Did she say –?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ grinned Jill, ‘and you’re welcome, Mum, any time.’
‘Thank you for my rug, Mrs Broadhurst,’ Sybil smiled politely. ‘It’s very . . . warm.’
‘Well, someone had to do something. Not covering legs like yours is simply asking for trouble.’
‘Nannie’s going!’ Jill called to those in the family room. ‘Come and say goodbye!’
As the children crowded in to say goodbye, Emily’s mother spread her arms out to deliver hugs and immediately transformed herself into a crocheted Christmas tree. Emily looked at her fondly and then, catching her sister’s eye, smiled with the full knowledge that they shared the special bond that came with having an extraordinary mother.
About fifteen minutes later, after everybody had surged out to the front porch and said their goodbyes, Adam managed to manoeuvre Mary down to Tim’s car. Tim slid himself behind the steering-wheel and waved, while Adam dashed back to the house and grabbed Jill by the arm, moving her away from the group. Emily followed.
‘Listen, if all goes well I’ll be back tomorrow for my car.’
‘Ah-ha! Got plans to do a little conquering, have you?’
‘Most definitely,’ Adam grinned, ‘now I’ve had some sense talked into me.’
‘That was me,’ Emily said proudly to Jill.
‘Yeah, a bit,’ Adam nodded his head, ‘but mainly it was the rabbit, to be honest.’
‘The Easter Bunny?’
‘That’s the one.’ Adam dropped a kiss on both foreheads and waved goodbye. ‘Wish me luck!’
‘Good luck!’
‘Mum, phone!’ Megan hung her head out of the front door and held a cordless telephone towards her mother. ‘It’s Auntie Corinne!’
‘So, what are you up to now, Emily?’ asked Sybil as they walked back into the lounge-room.
‘Home, I suppose. If I can get a lift.’
‘I’ve got a better suggestion, if you’re interested.’
‘You do?’ Emily looked across at Sybil curiously.
‘Yes. I mean, the night’s still young, isn’t it?’
‘Practically an infant,’ agreed Emily, pulling her overnight bag out from behind the couch.
‘So come out clubbing with me.’ Sybil picked up her crocheted rug and folded it neatly over one arm. ‘I have to drop young Charlotte off at her friend’s house and then I’m free and easy. And surely you must know some good clubs around town? I’ll bet they’re jumping at this time of year.’
‘Jumping, hey?’ Emily looked around at the disaster zone that was Jill’s lounge-room. ‘I could do with some aerobics after the day I’ve had.’
‘So, what do you say?’
‘First answer me one question.’ Emily sat down on the couch armrest and regarded Sybil. ‘Would you really have followed through with my brother-in-law if he’d shown any interest?’
‘Sure,’ Sybil said matter-of-factly. ‘Well, not once his wife turned up. That would have been a bit blatant. But before – why not?’
‘Because he’s married?’
‘How is that my problem?’ queried Sybil, in a reasonable tone of voice. ‘That’s his responsibility.
I’m
not married at the moment. So I let it be known I’m interested and, if he wants to take me up on it, that’s his choice. You know, I can never understand these women who carry on about their husbands having a fling like it’s all the other woman’s fault.’
‘But why don’t you stick to single guys?’ Emily asked. ‘Wouldn’t it be less complicated?’
‘Ah, but men are like parking spots. The only ones available are usually disabled.’
‘True,’ Emily nodded, thinking of recent experiences, ‘but then again, if they let you squish into a park that’s already taken, then they’re not exactly pick of the bunch either, are they?’
‘You have a point,’ Sybil replied slowly, ‘but with those ones, I’m only after short-term parking, nothing permanent. See?’
‘Interesting theory.’
‘Are you in or not?’
‘I think – in. Apart from the fact I need to kick my heels up, I’m dying to hear some more of your philosophies on life.’
‘Stick around.’ Sybil picked up her handbag and smiled at Emily. ‘I’m full of them.’
‘Full of something, anyway,’ grinned Emily.
‘Are you off?’ asked Jill, walking back into the room with Cricket wound around one kneecap. She regarded Sybil with thinly veiled dislike: ‘What a pity.’
‘Yes. And I’m taking your sister with me.’
‘You are?’ Jill turned to Emily with surprise. ‘Why?’
‘We’re going out to a club in town,’ replied Emily airily. ‘So, what did Corinne have to say? How’s her father-in-law?’
‘Yes,’ Sybil smiled slowly, ‘how
is
my crazy uncle?’
‘Coming to Melbourne.’
‘Really?’ asked Emily with surprise. ‘You mean – Will won?’
‘Won what?’ asked Cricket with interest.
‘Seems that way,’ Jill smiled ruefully, patting her daughter on the head. ‘First time for everything, I suppose. Anyway, it seems his father’s getting released from hospital tomorrow morning but it’s pretty obvious he shouldn’t be living alone. So they’re taking him in.’
‘That’s not going to impress your sister, is it?’ Sybil looked vastly amused at this thought. ‘I haven’t seen my uncle for years but I know he can be a real handful.’
‘I think she already knows that,’ said Jill, ‘because, boy, did she sound happy.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ said Charlotte, materialising behind her aunt and looking sceptical. ‘Mummy doesn’t like Granddad. At all. But that means she will have to clear out the spare room – with my old upright piano. I shall suggest that she gives it to you, Aunt Jill, seeing as you don’t have one.’
‘Oh. Um . . . I don’t know where I’d put –’ Jill looked around wildly.
‘I think Matt’s room,’ Charlotte suggested smoothly. ‘He was telling me earlier how much he loves piano. I shall make sure I tell Mum as soon as she gets back. I know! Let’s not tell Matt, it’ll be a big surprise!’
‘I’m sure it will be,’ agreed Matt’s mother with confidence. ‘And how about you get your things together because it appears you’re going now. And tomorrow your parents will be back with your grandfather. Won’t that be nice?’
‘Granddad shot his ear off,’ commented Charlotte. ‘I hope he brings it with him.’
‘Ah, yes. Well, you never know your luck.’
‘I shall ring tonight and ask,’ Charlotte said determinedly. ‘Thank you so much for having me, Aunt Jill, I had a lovely time.’
‘Pleasure, Charlotte.’
‘Come on then,’ said Sybil jovially, ‘if you’re lucky we may see a road accident or two. After all, it’s Melbourne Cup Day so there’s been a lot of drinking. Keep your fingers crossed, Charlotte.’
‘I
shall
.’ Charlotte moved off towards the door eagerly.
Sybil watched her walk away and then turned to Jill. ‘Unusual child. Now, I’d like to thank you as well. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t . . . that is, Corinne convinced me to – look, what I’m
trying
to say is that I’ve had a ball!’ Sybil grinned and then nodded her head as if she herself was amazed. ‘Really! It’s been a
very
interesting day.’
‘Glad you’ve been so . . . interested.’
‘Oh, and –’ Sybil reached into her handbag, withdrew the slinky she had won earlier, and bobbed down to Cricket’s level. ‘This is for you. I didn’t realise that you wanted it so much.’
‘But it’s yours.’ Cricket stared at the slinky longingly but made no move to take it.
‘Yes, it is. And that means I can give it to whoever I want.’ Sybil picked up Cricket’s hand and, opening it up, pressed the slinky within. ‘And I want to give it to you.’
‘Oh! My
thlinky
!’
‘Thank you.’ Jill looked from Cricket to Sybil with surprise. ‘That was very nice of you.’
‘Yes it was, wasn’t it?’
‘Come on –’ Emily grabbed her sister’s elbow – ‘walk us out.’
When they reached the porch, Sybil and Charlotte walked ahead to a steel-blue BMW parked by the next-door neighbour’s kerb. Emily, who was lagging behind, put her overnight bag down on the concrete and threw her arms around her sister.
‘Thanks, it’s been a real learning experience.’
‘And it
did
help you make a few decisions, didn’t it?’
‘It did,’ Emily nodded, ‘it really did. In fact, ever since I spoke to you earlier about transferring, I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. And I don’t know why I haven’t done it earlier. Probably the ties, you know – friends, family, the apartment.’
‘That beautiful apartment!’
‘Do you know, Jill,’ Emily paused and regarded her sister thoughtfully, ‘if you
do
decide you need a break, a more permanent one than just a night,
you
could stay there. I won’t be there, and I can hold off with leasing it out. I don’t mind.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely. I’d like knowing that someone I trust is staying there.’
‘You mean you still trust me after what I did last night? To you? And Jack?’
‘Jill, get over it.’ Emily rolled her eyes. ‘If the worst thing you’re going to do in nearly twenty years of marriage is have a brief snuggle with a homosexual, then I think you’re doing pretty well. As for me, I’d only have been peeved if you’d got further with him than I did. And you didn’t, so all’s well.’