Each Way Bet, page 4
‘Hello?’
‘Jillian!’ Corinne, her eldest sister, shrieked down the line. ‘Thank the lord you’re home!’
‘Where else could I be?’ asked Jill with feeling.
‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Now listen.’
Jill could see Cricket’s mouth moving suspiciously but couldn’t actually hear anything, so she put the marker down, turned her back on the child and leant against the wall. ‘What’s up?’
‘What’s up? You ask what’s up?’
‘Well –’
‘Let me tell you what’s up. You won’t believe it. First Charlotte’s recital was cancelled this morning. After we’d got all dressed and ready! Then, to make her feel better – the poor child was dreadfully down – I took her out for a latte and, while we were there, some idiot rammed my car and left a filthy great mark down the side. And they had the damn cheek to leave a note under my windshield saying it was my fault for taking up two car parks in the first place! I ask you – have you ever driven one of those four-wheel drives like mine?’
‘No, I can’t say that I –’
‘Of course you haven’t. But they do need a dreadful lot of room. Any fool can see that, but two car parks? I ask you – do I look like an idiot?’
‘I can’t really –’
‘Of course I don’t. Then we get into the car and naturally I’m fuming – so I reverse out and there’s a scrunching noise and you wouldn’t believe it. Somehow Charlotte left her retainer under the back tyre! Five hundred dollars! I ask you, can you believe that?’
‘Actually, no. What was it – gold-plated?’
‘Unbelievable. So then the poor child was even more distressed and I had to buy her a new chemistry set to make it up to her and of course she’s much too advanced for those kits they sell in the ordinary toy shops. So we had to go all the way in to Box Hill to this speciality store. And the lady couldn’t believe Charlotte was only eleven years old. But that’s not why I’m ringing.’
‘It’s not?’ Jill stretched the phone cord out so that she could reach the medicine cabinet and find some desperately needed Panadol. ‘Then, what’s up?’
‘What’s up? What’s –’
‘Shit!’ Jill yelled. ‘Corinne, we’ve been through this!’
‘You said it again!’ Cricket shrieked happily. ‘You said –’
‘No!’ Jill turned to face her daughter and in one fluid motion dropped the Panadol and picked up the black marker and waved it in the air menacingly. ‘Don’t even think about it!’
‘Don’t even think about what? And what are you yelling at me for? The one thing I don’t need after the day I’ve had is one of your moods!’
‘I’m going to tell Daddy what you said!’ Cricket folded her arms across her chest and looked narrowly at her mother. ‘I am!’
‘So?’ Jill looked just as narrowly back. ‘Do I look worried?’
‘Well! If it weren’t for the fact that I need to talk to you, I’d hang up right now,’ Corrine said tersely, ‘and I wouldn’t be ringing back for quite some time!’
‘Not you, Corinne!’
‘Yes, me – what, do you think I can’t live without ringing you up?’
‘And he’ll be really croth, he will.’
‘Because I ask you, do you –’
‘Stop!’ Jill dropped the marker and put her hand up. ‘Stop! Both of you!’
‘Both of us?’
‘Yes – both of you!’ Jill took a deep breath and then lowered her hand, and her voice. ‘Corinne, just a moment, please. Cricket, do your drawing and we’ll talk when I get off the phone – and no more interruptions no matter what, do you understand?’
‘But you –’
‘I said: do – you – understand?’ Jill enunciated each of the words slowly and waited until her daughter reluctantly nodded her head before turning her attention back to her sister. ‘Sorry, Corinne, you were getting caught between two conversations. I was talking to Cricket at the same time.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Corinne said slowly, sounding slightly mollified.
‘So, what can I do for you?’ Jill watched Cricket clamber down from the chair and send one last glare in her mother’s direction before leaving the room, the tin of pencils tucked firmly under her arm.
‘Well, it’s about tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Jill stopped with her hand halfway to the Panadol packet and felt a sudden surge of hope for the future. ‘Don’t tell me you’re cancelling?’
‘How did you know?’
‘You are?’
‘I am.’
‘What happened?’ Jill could feel her headache dissipating as she spoke. ‘I mean, you’ve never cancelled!’
‘I know,’ said Corinne regretfully, ‘and, I can tell you, I feel absolutely sick about it. But it’s unavoidable. And all part and parcel of the sort of day I’ve had. You see, when we got back, there were all these messages on the answering machine. Because it seems William’s idiot father up in Queensland has gone and had a heart attack.’
‘My god! Corinne – is he all right?’
‘Oh, yes – just a mild one,’ said Corinne airily, ‘and it’s his own fault, anyway.’
‘What?’
‘True. The stupid old man had a possum up in the ceiling, and he’d been laying traps but couldn’t get it. So last night, when the possum was running around overhead, he decided to shoot at it. Or at where he thought it’d be, anyway.’
‘He shot at it,’ Jill said disbelievingly, ‘from inside the house?’
‘Yep. Sat in his armchair and took pot-shots at the ceiling whenever he heard it move. But one of the bullets ricocheted off the metal light fitting and took off his left ear.’
‘What?’
‘Clean off. I ask you, have you ever heard of such a fool? And this is the man William wants to come and live with us. Over my dead body.’
‘And that’d be pretty likely given that you’ve got a double-storey house,’ observed Jill wryly. ‘You’d have to install bullet-proofing.’
‘And I’ve just had the upstairs recarpeted – so it’s out of the question.’
‘But hang on. Didn’t you say he had a heart attack?’
‘Yep. When his ear landed in his lap. Total overreaction.’
‘Corinne, his ear had just landed in his lap!’
‘Humph,’ said Corinne dismissively. ‘And now William insists that we have to fly up there tonight and see him. And stay a few days to see if anything can be done about his living arrangements.’
‘So . . .’ Jill spared a fleeting moment of sympathy for Corinne’s father-in-law before moving to her own immediate future, which was now looking considerably brighter. Which just went to show guns don’t always bring chaos.
‘So obviously I can’t host Melbourne Cup Day.’
‘What a pity.’
‘And I’d just finished all the arrangements.’
‘What a shame.’
‘So you’ll have to instead.’
‘What a – what?’
‘Obviously, Jillian,’ said Corinne crossly, ‘Emily can’t because that place of hers is totally unsuitable, and Adam can’t because. . . well, because he’s inept. So that leaves you.’
‘But I’m inept too!’
‘True. But haven’t you at least got a chance of carrying it off? I’ve already left a message at Adam’s telling him about the change in venue, and I’ll ring Emily as soon as I’ve finished with you. Not that she’ll be home, of course. And I’ll be sending William around in a couple of hours with everything. There’s the games, the prizes, the sweep draw and tickets, and . . . let me see, oh – I’ll send you my punchbowl. And I’ll send over everything I’ve prepared for lunch, and for morning tea – you might as well use it up. So you see, it’s all done and you won’t have anything to worry about. And I’ll even write out a list of instructions – foolproof instructions.’
‘Oh good,’ muttered Jill, her head starting to throb again.
‘And don’t forget that Mum has to be picked up from Twilight Haven at ten. Oh, and Charlotte’ll be coming of course, she wouldn’t miss it for the world. And before you offer to have her while we’re away – it’s already organised. She’s staying at a friend’s house. And, yes, I know that you would have been more than happy to have the child, but I know how busy your house gets, so I thought it best if she stayed somewhere . . . else. William’s cousin will be bringing her over. Please make her feel welcome.’
‘I always make Charlotte feel welcome!’
‘Not her! The cousin. I mean, I ask you, how can you ask someone to bring a child over, and collect her, and not invite her to stay? What an idea. Besides, she was coming when it was here, so I couldn’t very well tell her she wasn’t welcome anymore. Ridiculous. I’m sure you’ll cope with one extra. Although she’s a bit . . . but she’s a doctor, so one must make allowances. And she needs to meet people – only been back in the country a little while. Nasty divorce. Name’s Sybil. So, you see, it’s all taken care of. Except for the dessert, of course.’
‘What?’ repeated Jill, looking wide-eyed across at the bowl full of congealing butter. ‘Dessert?’
‘Yes, dessert. Which you were kindly supplying so I’m assuming it’s all taken care of by now. Correct?’
‘Oh, sure.’ Jill tried nodding to give her words added assurance. ‘All taken care of.’
‘Excellent. Then I’d better go and pack. And start your list. And I’ll give you a ring tomorrow to see how it’s going. Goodbye.’
Jill replaced the receiver slowly. Then she grimaced across at the mixing bowl and flipped a tea-towel over it so that she wouldn’t have to look at it. Unfortunately, she reflected as she gazed around the debris that was the family room, she couldn’t cover the whole damn lot in similar fashion. Melbourne Cup Day. Here. Tomorrow. She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘I heard that!’ Cricket popped up from the other side of the island bench and, with her arms akimbo, glared at her mother fiercely.
Jill looked at her daughter expressionlessly for a few moments and then, deciding that she was the least of her problems, reached for the Panadol.
CHAPTER TWO
Emily
‘That looks fantastic on you!’
‘Mmm . . .’ Emily twisted herself around so that she could see her behind in the full-length mirror. As she turned, the blood-red silk of the skirt flared out momentarily before settling sheath-like around her thighs and buttocks. She grimaced.
‘You don’t like it?’ asked the saleswoman incredulously, raising her pencil-thin eyebrows and making it sound as if Emily would have to be demented to pass up this opportunity. ‘But it looks fantastic!’
‘So you said.’ Emily stepped back into the cubicle and shed the skirt. ‘No, it’s too clingy.’
‘Clingy’s good!’
‘Only in small doses.’ Emily pulled her jeans back on and slipped her feet into her shoes. ‘But I’ll take the cargo pants, thanks – in the black.’
‘Certainly.’ The saleswoman clipped the skirt back onto the hanger and then held it out as though she were auditioning for a spot on the Spanish bullfighting team, so that Emily just about had to push past it as she exited the cubicle. ‘And you’re sure about the skirt? You know, it really did look –’
‘Fantastic?’ Emily walked over to the counter and took her purse out. ‘No thanks.’
‘Well, all right then, if you’re sure,’ the saleswoman said, shaking her head and sighing.
‘Not only am I sure,’ said Emily, closing her purse, ‘but do you know what? I think I’ve changed my mind about the pants too.’
Suddenly the saleswoman moved with lightning speed. Before Emily could even tuck her purse into her bag, she was over at the counter with the satiny black cargo pants folded and bagged. She held them out with a smile.
‘Great choice – they look fantastic.’
Emily paid with her credit card and then left the store, swinging the brightly coloured plastic bag at her side. She window-shopped all the way down Chapel Street, enjoying the tepid spring sunshine and the fact she had a day off while so many others seemed to be working. Fortunately, one of the few other free souls had arranged an impromptu picnic by the Yarra, and then done a ring-around. So Emily had spent the last three hours reclining on a grassy verge by the river, indulging in kabana and cheese and antipasto while catching up on the latest news and marking the passing joggers with scores out of ten.
And while it was all pretty enjoyable and a few fairly decent scores had come past, about an hour ago, Emily had started feeling rather bored with the whole thing. Accordingly, while the others started discussing the possibilities of a pub run, she had made her excuses and left. On the way home she had purchased not just the cargo pants but also a lovely little ribbed tank-top and a new pair of Bolle sunglasses. Then, on the spur of the moment, she decided to buy some delicacies for a Melbourne Cup bash platter that would impress even Corinne. Perhaps. So a stop at a deli provided some delicious looking sour cream crispy rye crackers, an array of gourmet cheeses and a dollop of hommus, while the fruit and veggie store next door contributed an avocado and a handful of cherry tomatoes for colour. Emily wasn’t sure yet how all these were going to come together, but she was confident something would occur to her.
It was nearly four by the time Emily reached her building, and the Fitzroy traffic was starting to build up with the standard peak hour early shift. Keeping pace with the increase in traffic, the footpaths were slowly being transformed from a place to stroll and leisurely check out racks set up outside shops, to a push and shove battle to keep to the left and avoid being elbowed into the road. Where one would no doubt promptly be plastered onto the front of an oncoming tram and then fined for not having a valid ticket.
But as soon as she manoeuvred herself and her bags over her threshold and shut the front door securely behind her, all the outside noise was cut off as if by magic. Emily leant against the wall for a moment, feeling almost spooked by the sudden surge of silence. Instead of being invigorating, the stillness felt deadening and heavy, like it had sucked some of the oxygen out of the room and affected the gravity. For a brief moment she deeply regretted leaving the little party by the Yarra so early and had to remind herself exactly how bored she’d been feeling by the time she’d left. Which didn’t help much now that she was faced with an evening of boredom here. At least by the Yarra there had been visual stimulation and a chance to improve her marksmanship. Accordingly, Emily felt a strong urge to dump her purchases and immediately retrace her steps.
Instead of giving in to her urges, which seemed destined to frustration today anyhow, Emily took her bags into the kitchen and unpacked them. The deli purchases went into the fridge for transformation at a later time and the avocado and cherry tomatoes tumbled into the fruit bowl, to join a lonely looking banana and a brownish-black apple. Emily regarded the mixture for a minute, then fished out the apple and, opening the cupboard door under the sink, drop-kicked it into the stainless-steel rubbish-bin within.
The phone rang just as she was taking her non-perishable purchases up the stairs to her bedroom, so she dropped them halfway up and jumped down the stairs two at a time to answer it. As she plucked the handset out of its cradle, Emily experienced a brief surge of hope it was Tim on the other end, having second thoughts about company for the evening – perhaps even having decided he was ready to throw his virginity to the wind. Or, if not Tim and/or the promise of sex, just about anybody would do – as long as they were ringing with an invitation for the evening.
‘Hello?’
‘You’re home! What a surprise!’
‘Jilly!’ Emily dropped down onto the couch and curled her legs up. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘Have you heard from Corinne?’
‘God, no,’ said Emily with feeling.
‘Oh.’ Jill sounded disappointed. ‘Well, have you checked your phone messages?’
‘Hang on.’ Emily leant over to look at the display panel of the answering machine. ‘There’s a few. Why, what’s she after?’
‘You’ll never guess,’ Jill groaned. ‘Go on – guess.’
‘Must I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay . . .’ Emily closed her eyes and tried to think the way her eldest sister would. Surely, she reasoned, she’d seen enough episodes starring FBI profilers to have learnt something somewhere. So she imagined herself with Corinne’s dark-green eyes instead of her own brown ones, and then opened them slowly. And immediately noticed her apartment lost all of its lovely, warm, mid-colour hues and became crisp black and white – not a grey to be seen anywhere. Emily shuddered and blinked her own eyes back.
‘Well?’
‘Christ, that was scary.’
‘C’mon – have a guess.’
‘Okay, okay. How about Will’s seen the error of his ways and is leaving the marital home in search of someone more – well, humanoid? Or Charlotte’s lost her retainer and they’re too embarrassed to be seen in public without it?’
‘Hey – that’s good!’ Jill sounded impressed. ‘And closer than you think, but no cigar.’
‘Okay, I give up.’
‘Then I’ll tell you. It seems Will’s father – you know, he lives in Queensland – decided to try and shoot some possums. Only problem was that he was in his lounge-room at the time, and the possum was in the roof. Anyway, eventually a bullet ricocheted off something or other and took off his left ear, which fell into his lap and he had a heart attack. You with me so far?’
‘Ah, yes,’ Emily answered slowly, her mind attempting to digest this news, ‘but I have to say, I don’t think I’d have guessed that.’
‘No, probably not,’ agreed Jill, ‘and I haven’t got to the best bit yet.’
‘Better than an ear in a lap?’
‘Yep – Corinne’s not having tomorrow at her place now.’
