Each Way Bet, page 22
‘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 –’
‘Mum!’ yelled Adam, Jill and Emily simultaneously.
‘So it was just the veni, without the vidi and the vici,’ said Tim thoughtfully. ‘That might explain a lot.’
‘And he’s from school, isn’t he?’ asked Jack, in that same low voice.
‘Yes, we do biology together,’ mumbled Megan, screwing up the tissue miserably.
‘Huh!’ said her mother bitterly.
‘And where does he live?’ asked Jack.
‘Dad, it’s not his fault,’ wailed Megan, ‘it was both of us!’
‘Takes two to tango,’ announced James Carstairs. ‘Now can we play bingo?’
‘My word, Jim!’ Margaret looked at her husband with horror. ‘Not now!’
‘Then we might as well go. Leave them to it.’
‘That’s probably not a bad idea.’ Margaret stood up and blinked at her son and daughter-in-law nervously. ‘We’ll get going. You must have a lot to talk about.’
‘You don’t have to go.’ Jill visibly collected herself and tried to sound gracious.
‘No, no. We were going to go before, anyway.’ Margaret edged out from the table and, moving around to the other side, dropped a kiss on the top of Megan’s head. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash, dear, it always does.’
‘I’ll see you out.’ Emily jumped up, thinking to herself that this socially acceptable gesture would give her a chance to replenish her drink. Or just to bring a few bottles to the table, which, judging by the pallor of most of those present, would be much appreciated.
‘I’ll get our plate.’ James Carstairs marched into the kitchen and then stopped, looking at the platter, which was liberally covered with damp crumbs and neglected garnish. ‘Humph! Have to wash it first!’
Emily waited while Margaret gave her son and daughter-inlaw a kiss and waved to everyone else, then she followed her to the front door where they waited for James to wash and dry his platter. They looked at each other, smiled awkwardly and, not for the first time, Emily wondered why a nice woman like Margaret Carstairs was married to a ghastly person like James. And had children with him. And lived with him. It didn’t make sense.
‘Are you happy with him?’ blurted Emily, and immediately wished that she’d kept her mouth closed. ‘Sorry – sorry, how rude. I shouldn’t have asked that.’
‘No, that’s fine,’ said Margaret, clearly unperturbed by the question. ‘And I know exactly what you’re thinking. My word, I do. You’re thinking that Jimmy would be a hard man to live with, and why do I bother.’
‘Well, yes,’ admitted Emily.
‘You’re just like everyone else, dear. People often wonder, I can tell. And you’re young too, of course, and haven’t yet learnt to look beyond the surface. It’ll come. Yes, yes.’ Margaret smiled and shifted her handbag from one arm to the other. ‘You’re a nice girl, it’ll come.’
‘It will?’ asked Emily, confused.
‘My word, yes. See, I imagine you think that we’re mismatched. That my . . . ah, nervousness is because of Jim – and his behaviour. That he’s a bit of a bully. Am I right?’
‘Oh . . .’
‘But you see I’ve been a Nervous Nelly all my life. A wallflower, that was me – could never think of the right thing to say. Before a dance, oh! I used to make myself sick with worry. Then I met Jim and he was just the same. Found socialising just as hard as I did. I understood that at once.’ Margaret paused, blinked and then gave Emily a shy smile. ‘I think that’s what first attracted me to him. But where I get all twittery, he gets belligerent and rude. That’s his defence, see. Deep down, we’re just the same. Not terribly good at company. Some people are just like that.’ Margaret shrugged philosophically. ‘And being with Jim – I can accept that. Because I’ve got him.’
‘I see,’ Emily said slowly.
‘And that’s the greatest gift you can have in a husband, dear,’ Margaret continued, ‘not looks, or money, or even expectations – but balance. You remember that, dear, that you have to balance each other.’
‘Ready yet?’ James appeared behind them with the empty sandwich platter in one hand and his Rubik’s cube in the other. He gave Emily a gruff look: ‘You, girl, you look after your sister – she’s going to need you.’
‘Oh, and one more thing . . .’ Margaret paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked embarrassed. ‘We thought you should know, you’re such a nice girl – and that young man of yours . . . well, we wondered if you were aware that he was, he was a –’
‘Horse’s hoof,’ said James bluntly and then, as if he felt Emily needed further elaboration, ‘queer as a three-dollar bill. Pansy. Fairy.’
‘Yes,’ said Margaret, opening up the door. ‘Nice boy but – you could do better. My word, yes.’
Emily watched them walk down the driveway and squeeze past Jack’s Commodore, which was parked a bit too close to the concrete edge. As they reached the pathway, James tucked the platter up under his arm and, without either of them even looking at each other, Emily saw his left hand and her right extend towards each other and meet in the middle. And thus, with hands clasped, they walked on up the path and gradually disappeared from sight.
Emily shook her head with a sort of wonder. Because it was so easy, so simple, to make judgements about other people and to pigeonhole them into neat little stereotypes that reflected only what was seen. And she knew that, in this case, she had been guilty of exactly that. And by doing so she had ignored the multifaceted nature of humanity and settled instead for a one-dimensional assumption – and she hadn’t just sold the Carstairs couple short in the process, but herself. Because so much can be missed out on if one never looks beyond the surface. For appearances can be deceiving, and it seemed that Margaret and James Carstairs were living proof.
Jillian
Jill stroked Megan’s cheek gently as she lay with her head in her mother’s lap, and wished fervently that everybody would just leave. Grab their things and go – and let her and her family face this crisis unfolding before them. But aside from her parents-in-law nobody was leaving – indeed, nobody had even offered. Instead, Adam sat at the table, his head leaning on one hand, offering all sorts of unsolicited advice, while Jill’s mother had set up the bingo apparatus before her and simply continued playing. Next to her, Charlotte sat with her face alight with curiosity, and across was Emily, who was steadily taking advantage of the fact that she could now drink without sanction. Surprisingly, the only two people who were even remotely helpful were the two who weren’t related. That woman was making herself useful in the kitchen replenishing drinks, mainly Emily’s, and making coffee, while Tim had taken himself off down the street to fetch some afternoon tea.
‘I’m so sorry,’ mumbled Megan against her mother’s jeans, turning her head and inadvertently wiping her nose on the denim. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ Jill lied, tucking a piece of damp blond hair behind Megan’s ear.
‘Does this mean I’ll be an uncle?’ inquired Matt, who was leaning over his mother’s chair. ‘Hope it’s a boy. That’d be excellent.’
‘I want a girl!’ cried Cricket, who was leaning on the other side. ‘A little girl with red hair just like mine.’
‘Huh,’ said Kate, which was the first thing she had uttered since the news exploded amongst them. Instead she had removed herself from the table quickly and retreated to the couch against the broken window, where she sat and regarded the proceedings darkly while she put a fresh coat of dull black on her chipped nails.
‘Okay, kids out!’ Jack, who had been pacing around the house since his parents left, reached the family room on his latest circuit and glared at his offspring. ‘And that includes you, Matt! Outside, all of you! Find something to do.’
‘What did I do?’ asked Kate resentfully, although she obviously didn’t expect an answer because she immediately stood and stalked outside, waving her fingers in the air to dry them. Matt followed reluctantly, wisely refraining from comment, and Cricket, whose mouth did open to object, closed it again when she saw her father’s face and followed suit. Last of all was Charlotte, who seemed to be a bit surprised that she was included in the command, but when Jack’s gaze fell on her she stood, smoothed her skirt down and walked regally outside. The sliding door shut behind them and Jack collapsed into a chair, gratefully taking the drink that Sybil offered him.
