Summer

  The cigarette smoke made Uncle Dennis squint. “That’s an easy one mate; our bloody sheilas.”

  They both laughed at Uncle Dennis’ joke. I didn’t understand what was so funny. In fact, I had no idea what they were talking about.

  “Well, bras or no bras, I’d be happy to throw my leg over; especially that flatmate of hers.”

  Uncle Mick scoffed. “Yeah, I bet ya would.”

  I shut the door loud enough to let them know I was on my way in. “Mum wants to know where Dad is.”

  “I’m in here,” he called, before either of them could answer.

  I went into the lounge room to let Dad know that Mum needed him outside. Uncle Dennis didn’t even wait until I was out of earshot before continuing with his conversation. “I’ve got a good one,” he said, “how do lessos hold their liquor?”

  I stood on the other side of the door and waited to hear the answer.

  Uncle Mick was no help. “Dunno.”

  Uncle Dennis started laughing before he answered his own question, “By the ears of course.”

  This time they both cracked up. Dad stopped assembling Pat’s slot car track and went to see what Mum wanted. “Sounds like you're having a good time there boys,” he said, walking through the dining room.

  Uncle Mick was quick to reply. “No complaints here, mate.”

  I followed Dad outside. The tarp on the line had come undone and was hanging on the tables. Mum asked him to help her tie it back up. “Jeez Mel, couldn’t you have got Dave to give you a hand?” he complained, noticing her brother close by.

  Uncle Dave and Aunty Sharon were still sitting in the same spot. You could tell they were arguing by the way Aunty Sharon leaned all the way into his face when she spoke. Mum shook her head. “There’s no way that girl’s letting him out of her clutches; she’s not done tearing strips off him yet.”

  “Hey Dave,” Dad called, “come and give us a hand, mate.”

  Uncle Dave got up. Dad asked him to grab one corner of the tarp and he got me to hold the other one. Between the three of us, we lifted it back over the washing line so Mum could tie it in place.

  “Thanks mate. Everything alright?” Dad asked.

  “Shaz is pissed off at me for making her come, that’s all. She wanted to stay at her parents place; she reckons it’s not right that they should have to spend Christmas alone.”

  “They’re welcome to join us if they want.”

  Mum shot Dad a dirty look.

  “Yeah, thanks mate. I don’t think I’ll offer, if it’s all the same. She’ll get over it.”

  The sharp lines on Mum’s face relaxed.

  “Besides,” he said, brightening up a bit, “she’d have nothing to nag me for then, would she?”

  “Too right mate,” Dad agreed. “Why don’t you come and give me a hand putting Pat’s slot car set together, Sharon will be right chatting with your sisters a while.”

  Uncle Dave looked doubtful.

  “Come on mate, it’s Christmas. Grab a couple of beers and come join me.”

  Uncle Dave went into the shed to get the beers. Aunty Sharon got up and marched in behind him. Dad looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like I’ve done it now.”

  “Dan,” Mum barked, “please go and make sure she’s not murdering him in there.”

  Before Dad had so much as taken a step, Aunty Sharon stomped out of the shed with half a carton of beer. “Hurry up David, or I’ll leave without you.”

  Uncle Dave followed her out like a small child. He looked across to where we were standing, “You heard the lady folks; it’s time to go.” He tried to sound cheerful, but failed miserably.

  Dad didn’t want to make it any harder on him by arguing the point. “No worries mate, we’ll catch up again soon.”

  Uncle Dave found the courage to take his time. No doubt he’d have hell to pay for it later. He stopped to talk with Mum and Dad, and bravely left Aunty Sharon standing near the side of the house, tapping her foot impatiently. “What are you doing for New Year’s?” he asked, not in the least bit interested, but keen for a reason to stop and make Aunty Sharon wait

  Dad answered. “We’re going to the Unwin’s. Most of the street will be there from what I can gather.”

  I didn’t know we were going to the Unwin’s for New Year’s Eve. “Are we coming too?” I asked.

  “If you want,” answered Dad, “we’ll only be a couple of doors down, so you can come or stay, it doesn’t matter either way.”

  The Unwin’s place is the last house in our street. It’s only two doors from our place, which means Mum and Dad can check on us easily. “Can Tom come too and sleep over?” I was pretty sure his parents wouldn’t have a New Year’s Eve party.

  “We’ll see,” Mum said.

  “Choice!” We’ll see usually means yes.

  “David, will you hurry up, I haven’t got all day.”

  Mum looked from Aunty Sharon to Uncle Dave questioningly. “Where are you going now?” she asked him.

  He raised his eyebrows and looked as if to say; you’ll never guess where. “Home,” he admitted.

  Dad nodded silently.

  “Alright Shaz, don’t get your knickers in a knot, I’m coming.” He gave Mum a kiss on the cheek and raced to catch up with her. We could hear her nagging him all the way up the side of the house. Aunty Joanne didn’t even wait until they were out of sight before talking about them. “Did you see that?” she asked in disbelief, “the hide of that woman; she’s taking their bloody beers with her.”

  Aunty Audrey agreed. “What a scab.”

  Even Pa had something to say, “Breaks my heart to see a man under the thumb like that.”

  Poor Uncle Dave; fancy being married to someone like Aunty Sharon, she never gave him a break the whole time they were here. I don’t even know why they got married; they don’t appear to like each other very much. When me and Tom get married, I’m never going to treat him like that.

  With all the ruckus between Uncle David and Aunty Sharon, Uncle Mick had managed to worm his way into the seat beside Shelby without anyone noticing. Aunty Audrey watched Aunty Sharon disappear up the driveway before leaning across to make a snide comment to Uncle Mick. Much to her annoyance, he was more interested in trying to engage Shelby in conversation. She considered bitching to Clare instead, but Clare deliberately avoided making eye contact with her.

  She slumped back in her chair, defeated.

  I pretended not to notice and continued to eat my second helping of apple crumble and custard. Clare looked over and gave me a smile. She went to get up, but Shelby discretely grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. Shelby waited for Uncle Mick to take a breath and asked if she could get him a beer. Uncle Mick looked smugly at Uncle Dennis who was sitting across from him. He waited until he had Uncle Dennis’ attention before answering with a smirk. “Ah, you’re a girl after my own heart, Shelby.”

  Aunty Audrey glared at him.

  As Shelby got up, she looked pleadingly at Clare. Clare understood the look to mean that Shelby wanted her to come with her, so she got up and followed her into the shed. I was dying to hear what they said, so I waited a minute before casually going into get some more punch. Clare and Shelby were standing with the fridge door open, giggling.

  “If you don’t rescue me soon, I swear I’ll never speak to you again,” Shelby warned.

  Clare laughed out loud. “Are you kidding? I’m very happy to let Audrey pick on someone else for a change.”

  Shelby pushed her playfully. “You’d think Dave and Sharon would’ve satisfied her carnivorous tendencies.”

  “She’ll never be satisfied while her husband’s sitting there drooling all over you. Besides, they’ve gone and you’re still here.”

  Clare saw me coming and reached out and took my cup. “I warned her about our family,” she said in mock seriousness, “but she didn’t believe me.”

  Dad called out to let Clare know that Nanna was on the phone. “I bett
er take this, it’s an STD call,” she said, “I’ll be back in a sec.” Nanna doesn’t like it if you leave her waiting on the line all the way from South Australia.

  I was dying to ask Shelby why she moved in with Clare, but I didn’t want to intrude. “What did you get for Christmas?” I asked instead.

  “Clare bought me some perfume and a record.”

  “Which one?”

  “Which one what; perfume?”

  Unless it was Chanel No. 5 or Youth Dew, I didn’t know the first thing about perfume. “No, record,” I said, before realising I knew only a smidgen more about records than I did about perfume.

  “Oh,” she nodded, “Cold Chisel.”

  Phew! At least I’d heard of them. “I like that song, “Last train out of Sydney’s almost gone”.”

  Shelby looked impressed with my level of knowledge. “Me too,” she said, ““Khe Sahn’s” my favourite.”

  “I don’t like that one as much,” I said with more confidence.

  Shelby laughed. “Is that right?”

  She handed me a beer. “Can you give that to Mick for me while I take this into Clare?” I knew Uncle Mick would be disappointed, so I agreed to take it to him.

  Shelby was still chuckling to herself as she walked up the back steps and into the house.

  ***

  Kerrie-Anne and I played scoop ball in the back yard. Aunty Audrey and Uncle Mick had already left. Every year they have lunch with our family and tea with Uncle Mick’s. Aunty Joanne must have felt that in Aunty Audrey’s absence, the responsibility of gathering information about Shelby rested with her. “So how do you know Clare?” she asked.

  Shelby sat at the end of the table next to Clare. Mum was out front saying goodbye to Grandma and Pa, and Dad was playing slot cars with the boys. “We met through work,” she answered. “It was when Clare was working for Engineers and Colliery Supplies. I came in to pick up an order.” Shelby remembered something funny and started to laugh. “She had no idea what she was doing either. She made a huge balls-up and gave me someone else’s order.”

  Clare pretended to be offended. “And how long did it take you to work out that I’d stuffed up?” She didn’t wait for Shelby to answer. “If I recall, you got all the way back to work before you realised that I’d given you the wrong parcel.”

  Shelby laughed. “She’s right; I did.”

  Clare continued “Besides, I’m a bookkeeper not a salesman. Just think yourself lucky I came out and served you at all; you would have stood there all day otherwise.”

  “I’m sure it would have taken less time than it did with you serving me,” she laughed.

  Clare gave Shelby a friendly punch.

  I could see Aunty Joanne trying to do the sums in her head. “How long ago was that?”

  “I’ve been at the Dockyard for almost a year,” said Clare, by way of an answer.

  Uncle Dennis couldn’t take his eyes of Shelby. “How did you become friends?” he asked.

  She pretended not to notice his attention. “It was Clare’s last day at work and she asked me to come to the pub for farewell drinks.”

  “So you took her up on it?”

  “You bet. We’ve…”

  Uncle Dennis finished Shelby’s sentence. “And you’ve been bosom buddies ever since.”

  Shelby looked slightly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. “Gosh,” she said, changing the subject, “look at the time.”

  “What’s up,” enquired Uncle Dennis, “got a hot date?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Clare gave Shelby an odd look before putting Uncle Dennis out of his misery. “I told a friend of ours that we’d call in for a drink or two after lunch.”

  Uncle Dennis gave Aunty Joanne a look that said he didn’t believe a word she said. Clare and Shelby walked inside to say goodbye to the others. Uncle Dennis looked after them wistfully.

  Aunty Joanne caught him looking and elbowed him. “Will you stop gawking at her? You look like a bloody drongo.”

  Uncle Dennis looked shocked. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

  Aunty Joanne shook her head in disgust.

  Uncle Dennis skillfully changed the subject. “I bet I know where they’re going.”

  “Where?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  He leaned over and whispered in Aunty Joanne’s ear. She nodded her head in agreement and they both laughed.

  I couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was appeared to get him back in her good books, because she put her hand on his leg and took a sip of his beer. “I wonder if Mel and Dan know,” she said.

  Uncle Dennis shrugged and got up. “Hey Kerrie, give us a go.”

  “Here you go,” I offered him my scoop. “I’m going to get a drink, take mine.”

  Uncle Dennis was the last person I wanted to play scoop ball with.

  Chapter 48

  Saturday, 14 December 1968

  It was almost dark by the time Peter arrived back home. He thanked God for the absence of cars out front, which meant that Jane was no longer there, and then thanked Him a second time when he found Stephen’s note advising him that he was staying at Mark’s place and would return tomorrow. He had spent a good portion of the afternoon mulling over what he was going to say to Stephen, but now the inevitable had been delayed for another day. It wasn’t like Peter to procrastinate, but on this occasion he was pleased for the opportunity to do so. He still hadn’t got it clear in his mind what he was going to tell his son, or if he would tell him anything at all, for that matter. After all, there was a good chance that Stephen would be none the wiser about the events that had taken place. He hadn’t been there at the time, and Peter doubted that Jane would be too eager to fill him in. Anyway, Peter rationalised, what earthy good could it do to involve Stephen in his problems? And that is what it was; his problem, not Jane’s, nor Stephen’s; his – and he supposed, Maggie’s.

  Peter felt numb just thinking about that concept. It was easy enough to admit that it was his problem to deal with, but the truth was that he didn’t have a clue as to how to deal with it. His initial urge was to get in the car and follow Maggie to Martinsville, but he knew that to do so would be folly. If there was one thing he had learned from living with her as long as he had, it was that his best chance of success came from granting her the breathing space she asked for. While it was true that of the pair of them, Maggie was far more confrontational than Peter, it was also true that once she was done tackling the problem head-on she generally cooled down much quicker; providing she didn’t feel too smothered.

  Her inability to stay angry for long was one of the things he loved about her, but something told him that the usual rules did not apply in this instance. If that were true, and he was surmising that it was, then it was definitely in his best interests to let her be by herself for a couple of days. In the meantime, he had never felt so lost in all his years. Not even when his first wife had left him.

  Things had been different with Marjorie. She and Peter had been high school sweethearts who had outgrown each other shortly after high school. Only they hadn’t realised it at the time, or if they had, they had not taken heed. Instead, they did what every self-respecting young couple did. They got engaged, waited an appropriate time, then got married, bought a block of land, built a house, and had kids. They did exactly what was expected of them; nothing more, nothing less. They never considered the things they later came to question, such as; is this as good as it gets? Is there more to life than simply existing? Obviously, Marjorie had thought life had more to offer, because one day, she just up and left, without warning. Or so Peter had thought at the time. He later came to realise that the warning signs had been there all along; he had simply chosen to bury his head in the sand and soldier on. He had even been devastated by her leaving. That too had been expected of him. It was only much later, after having met Maggie, that he realised that things happened for a reason, and that his li
fe was far richer for it.

  Things were different with Maggie. They did nothing that was expected of them and everything that wasn’t. So much so, that Maggie’s mother disowned her for it. And Maggie was her only daughter. Peter’s parents had been somewhat less hostile about the affair, but, that was only because they saw an opportunity for salvation for their troubled son, who lived alone with his two children, having failed to satisfy his wife sufficiently for her to stay. It wasn’t because they thought Maggie was particularly good for him, quite the contrary. Despite their initial delight at their son’s good fortune, it took them years to discard their reservations about her. They believed she was simply after a house and a husband – and in that order.

  So it was that, while Peter always looked back on his and Maggie’s developing relationship fondly – almost blindingly so – he had not forgotten the challenges that they had overcome in order to be together. Nor had he forgotten that things had been far more difficult for Maggie than they had been for him. Ostracised by her only living parent, in love with a married man, uprooting to Sydney to be with him, disappointed by failing to conceive as planned, and all the while caring for his children who had yet to recover from their mother’s betrayal – an act for which they initially held Maggie responsible. Having overcome the many obstacles together, they always believed that they were so much stronger for it.

  Peter hoped like hell that this was still the case; that the strength that had seen them through their most difficult years was still there for them now. Still pondering the thought, Peter didn’t bother to make himself dinner. He simply stripped off his clothes, showered, collapsed on the bed, naked. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he fell into a troubled sleep shortly after his head hit Maggie’s pillow.

  Chapter 49

  Saturday, 14 December 1968

  Maggie dragged herself up with the aid of a nearby buffet and shuffled towards the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of her image as she passed the mirror in the hall and was shocked by what she saw. The face looking back at her was barely recognisable. It was pale white; her usual freckles scarcely visible, now dancing across her features. Her skin, damp with tiny droplets of sweat, had a translucent pallor. Her blue eyes were all that saved her from looking like the walking dead, their lively shade looking as much out of place on her frightened face as red lipstick on a corpse. She looked down at her lower body and felt woozy, her pastel blue skirt now splashed with red. She watched as a thin stream of blood trickled all the way to her feet and onto the floor. If she hadn’t been so scared, she might have laughed at her likeness to a character from a cheap horror flick. But she was scared. She was scared witless.