Drip Dry (32 page)

He clears his throat noisily. ‘Firstly, on behalf of my wife and I, I'd like to welcome you all here to share with us this special day, is that right? And it
is
a special day because today –'

‘Pssst,' I whisper to Alex.

‘What?' he whispers back.

‘You're looking rather dapper too.'

‘Well, thank you.'

‘Where's your fiancée?'

‘What fiancée?'

‘The one in your driveway the other day.'

‘She's not my fiancée. It was all a big misunderstanding.'

‘That's some misunderstanding.'

‘I'll tell you about it later – but she's not my fiancée.'

‘Was she ever your fiancée?'

‘God, you're persistent! Yes, she
was
my fiancée but she's not now.'

‘. . . and so I'd like you all to charge your glasses one more time and drink to this very special day and thank you all for sharing it with us, is that right?'

‘Cheers!' sixty-odd voices call out again as, all across the garden, glasses are raised. And then a long line of black and white catering staff emerge from the back door of the house, each bearing an enormous platter of steaming food. They thread their way
expertly through the throng of guests and deposit their offerings onto white linen draped trestle tables set up in the centre of the yard. Platter after platter appears until the tables are heaped with food and the guests get up eagerly to crowd around and help themselves to the smorgasbord.

‘Hi, Dad! Hey, Mum?' Sam drops down onto one knee beside my chair. ‘Is it okay if I stay at Sara's tonight? We're working on an assignment together and we want to get it finished. I can go to school with her tomorrow.'

‘Love your dress.'

‘Yeah, yeah. So, can I?'

‘I don't see why not,' I say, mulling the proposition over.

‘Danke!' Sam drops a kiss on the top of my head and then leans over and drops one on the top of her father's head as well. ‘I'll see you after school tomorrow, then.'

‘I'm so proud of her,' I say to Alex. ‘And you should be too. She's so keen on her studies, I never have to nag her at all. I'm sure she's going to do really well.'

‘Yeah, and I reckon she'll enjoy a couple of years in the army,' Alex replies as he takes a sip of his beer.

‘The army!' I frown at him in amazement. ‘Who said anything about the army?'

‘Why, she did! Didn't she tell you?'

‘I'm going to get something to eat.' I put my glass down abruptly and get up from the table. The army! How ridiculous. And anyway, if Sam was thinking about the army, I'd be the first person she'd tell.

‘Sam, what's all this rubbish about the army?' I hiss as I push my way in next to her at the serving tables and grab a plate from a pile at the end.

‘I'm going to join up – at the end of the year, of course,' says Sam calmly as she helps herself to some chicken Kiev. ‘I've tried to tell you, but you don't seem very interested.'

‘Not interested!' I say as I wave my plate around with excitement. ‘Not interested in what you want to do with the rest of your life?'

‘That's right. So I was going to tell you next week when we met up with the careers counsellor. And please keep your voice down.'

‘Why the
army
, just tell me that? You realise that you'd have to leave home?'

‘Well, it started because of my name – Sam Brown – that's what officers wear. Harold told me last year and it got me thinking. And so I sent away for the pamphlets and worked it all out. When I get my VCE I'm going to, like, join up and do a uni course through the army. Fully paid. Dad thinks it's a great idea. And anyway, I've made up my mind.' She grabs a set of tongs, picks up some salad and plops it on her plate before turning to me. ‘Look, if you want to talk about it some more I don't mind, only let's talk about it tomorrow. Like, not now, okay?'

‘Then why don't we talk about a twelve-month gym membership, hmm?'

‘Oh, Mum! That'd be
great
!' She beams at me. ‘And it'll really help with my fitness for the army. You're the
best
!'

Slightly dumbfounded, I watch her move off
along the trestle tables and then shake my head in disbelief. But, then again, it's probably just a stage and she'll change her mind by the end of the year. Apart from anything else, there's no way she's ready to leave home. But fancy her confiding in Alex and not me! He's only been back a matter of days and it starts already. I lean forwards desultorily and pick up a ladle to help myself to some scalloped potatoes but, before I can use it, a wizened little old lady rips it out of my hand and brandishes it in the air in front of my face.

‘You pushed in! I saw you! Go to the back of the line and wait your turn!'

Well, if that's Harold's mother then I've just now changed my mind – I'm
not
looking forward to meeting her after all. I wipe some scalloped potato off my shoulder and stand back, wait till she passes and then grab the ladle before anyone else can. Then I help myself, watching surreptitiously to make sure she doesn't turn around and spot me.

‘Well, well, well. For an ex, he is
very
cute. Not bad at all,' Terry whispers in my ear loudly as she passes behind.

‘But?' I ask, because with Terry there's usually a but or two.

‘It's also cute, from what I saw anyway. So, if it wasn't for the fiancée, I'd totally approve.' She blithely continues up the line towards the bread rolls before I can tell her that the fiancée isn't an issue any more. Instead I concentrate on dumping my scalloped potatoes neatly on my plate.

‘Cam, how's it going?' Phillip moves up next to me and picks up the salad tongs.

‘Hey, what happened to you?' I ask because I haven't seen him since he helped extricate me from Terry's tiny Barina. ‘Are you ignoring the rest of us?'

‘Oh, Beth's got some bee in her bonnet about you at the moment and insisted on us sitting across the other side of the garden,' he says ruefully, and then spots his beloved moving rapidly over to join us. ‘And there she is. Catch you later, I'm off.'

I pick up the tongs from the table where he dropped them and help myself to some salad as I watch my youngest sister approach with a face like thunder.

‘I know what you're up to, and it won't work,' she says as soon as she pushes in beside me, ‘so you might as well give up.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' I say as I pass her the tongs and move on down to the bread basket, ‘but if you push in like that, Harold's mother will get you.'

‘Oh, yes, you do so know what I'm talking about.' She throws the tongs into the scalloped potato bowl and follows persistently. ‘I'm talking about Phillip.'

‘Love your dress.'

‘You can
have
it – think it'll fit?'

‘Catty. Very catty,' I say calmly as I try to decide between two different choices of risotto, ‘but I think Alice in Wonderland is more you than me.'

‘What's
that
supposed to mean?'

‘Just an observation, that's all. Don't burst your stays over it.'

‘You are such a bitch,' says Elizabeth grimly.

‘Enough about me.' I turn and look at her brightly.

‘Hey, I must say Phillip
is
looking rather well, isn't he?'

‘You're not having him and that's that.'

‘That's good.' I decide to give both risottos a miss. ‘Because I don't want him.'

‘Yes, you do!'

‘No. I don't.'

‘Do so!'

‘Do not!'

‘Do!'

‘Not!'

‘D – are you serious?'

‘Yes, I'm serious. I – don't – want – your – boyfriend. There, are you happy now?'

‘Do you swear on our father's grave?' Elizabeth grabs my hand and I nearly drop my plate. ‘Do you swear?'

‘Hey, watch it! Yes, all right, I swear on our father's grave.' I snatch my hand away and glare at her. ‘You're a psycho.'

‘God, I'm so relieved! I always thought you were after him! Oh, what a relief.' She holds a hand up to her forehead. ‘I can't believe it! This makes all the difference.'

‘Well, it still doesn't mean you have to come over and sit with us,' I say nastily as I move away from the serving tables and look down at my plate. I've got salad, potatoes and bread – no meat. That won't do. I move back up to the start of the line and begin inching my way forward again in order to add everything that I missed.

‘Why don't you want him then?'

‘What?' I turn around and there is Bloody Elizabeth behind me again. ‘What the hell are you talking about?'

‘Phillip. Why
don't
you want him?'

‘Has your artificial intelligence gone on the blink or something?' I say incredulously. ‘A few minutes ago you were carrying on about how relieved you were that I
didn't
want him!'

‘Yes, but now I just want to know why.' Elizabeth looks visibly upset. ‘I mean, what's wrong with him?'

‘What's
wrong
with him?' I repeat, still trying to grasp the conversation. And then it hits me and I look at her with surprise. She wants my opinion. When she thought I was after him that opinion didn't have to be voiced, because the very fact that I wanted him spoke volumes. But now that I have said that I
don't
want him, she is questioning her own judgement – and his worth. I never realised that my approval meant so much.

‘Yes, what's wrong with him?'

‘Nothing's wrong with him, Elizabeth,' I say slowly as I try to think. ‘He's a great guy. Really great. He's good-looking, nice, generous, well-employed, well-paid, even presentable in public. Which is a vast improvement on the other strays you've brought home. In fact, if you hadn't been going out with him when we met, maybe I would have made a play for him. But you were, so I didn't. And I simply don't think of him that way because, damn it, well – you're my sister, for god's sake.'

‘
Really
?'

‘Yeah, so Mum says anyway. Though I've always had my doubts.'

‘Oh, thank you, Camilla! Thank you, thank you, thank you!' She throws her arms out and then, as my eyes widen, grins and just squeezes one of my arms. ‘Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me. Thanks.'

Still holding my half-filled plate in front of me, I watch her thread her way through the tables towards where Phillip is sitting. She leans over and whispers something in his ear and he gets up, puts his drink down, and follows her into Harold's house. Well! I do think it would have been polite to have waited until after the reception had finished! As I look back across the guest-strewn garden, I meet my mother's eyes and flinch involuntarily. But she's smiling at me. And in fact it's one of her secretive little ‘I'm proud of you' smiles that I recognise despite not having received many of them in the last forty years. This is all getting very strange and I'm
sure
I only took one of those little magic tablets this morning. I smile tentatively back and then break eye contact before I do something to ruin the moment.

By the time I get back to my table, everybody else has helped themselves to food as well and is happily tucking in. The babies are fast asleep, snug in their capsules next to their parents, and Fergus has replenished our glasses yet again. He is being uncharacteristically quiet and I'm guessing he feels a little overwhelmed by our lot. However, the conversation between everybody else is in full swing.

‘But why
was
the cat called “Ow”, Alex?' asks Terry interestedly.

‘Because, and you'll remember this, Cam, because
Sam couldn't say “Meow” properly and that was her shortened version. But you try standing outside at night calling “Ow, Ow, here Ow!” and see how stupid you feel!'

‘Oh, I remember that cat!' I exclaim as everybody laughs. ‘God, that was years ago!'

‘Those were the days,' sighs Alex nostalgically. ‘Damn, we had some fun! Cam used to give such good –'

‘Alex!' I exclaim in horror.

‘I
was
going to say parties, you know,' Alex comments dryly as he raises his eyebrows at me. Maggie guffaws while David and Terry break out into hearty laughter. I give them all a filthy look.

‘Did you know,' says Terry as she tries to get her laughter under control, ‘did you know that on this day in 1542, Catherine Howard was beheaded?'

‘And who's Catherine Howard when she's at home?' asks Fergus of his goddess.

‘She was the fifth wife of Henry VIII – apparently she played around on him.'

‘Like he didn't,' I say with disgust. ‘What a hypocrite.'

‘Did you know that eighty percent of men are unfaithful in Australia?' says David to the company in general.

‘You're kidding!' I look at him in astonishment. ‘That seems a bit high.'

‘No wonder I had problems with Dennis,' comments Terry.

‘Yeah, the other twenty percent travel overseas first!' Grinning, David delivers his punchline to assorted groans from his audience.

‘Hey, Diane.' Ignoring her husband, I lean over to get her attention. ‘Did you tell Mum that CJ had nits the other day?'

‘No,' replies Diane, looking surprised. ‘Why on earth would I do that?'

‘I don't know,' I say with a sigh. ‘It's just she always knows everything, yet no one ever tells her. It's like a sixth-sense demonic perception or something. You know, you can run –'

‘But you can't hide,' finishes Diane. ‘I
know
what you mean. But did you hear what she put in her vows at the church?'

‘No,' I answer, because I had paid absolutely no attention to anything said at the church after the priest announced that we were gathered there together. ‘I must have missed that part. What was it?'