Each Way Bet (12 page)

‘Isn’t anybody going to introduce me?’ breathed Sybil, looking across at Mary with an awed expression on her face. ‘Please?’

‘Sure,’ said Jack heartily, letting go of the gas-lighter so quickly that Emily staggered a few steps backwards. ‘Mary, over here! I want to introduce you to . . . um –’

‘Sybil. Sybil Simons. And you’re Corinne’s mother, aren’t you? We met once – a
long
time ago. At your daughter’s wedding. I’m Will’s cousin.’

‘You
are
?’ Jack’s mouth dropped open.

‘Pleased to meet you, dear.’ Mary took the proffered hand and then dropped it quickly with a grimace. ‘Yech! You’re frigid!’

‘You’ve been talking to my ex-husband,’ commented Sybil with amusement.

‘And is it any wonder!’ Mary looked down at the long legs that, as she was fairly short, ended not far below her eye level. ‘Look at all that skin you have showing! Ridiculous! What you need is a nice rug. Just give me a moment. Jack? Jack! What did you do with my crocheting bag?’

‘I’ll get it, but why don’t we all go in and sit down.’ Jack took Mary by the arm and started to lead her into the lounge-room. ‘The next race’ll be on soon and I’ve got ten bucks riding on it. C’mon, Adam, you too.’

‘I’ll help Em with the coffees first.’

‘No, no,’ Emily waved him away. ‘It’s all under control. You go in and get settled and I’ll bring them in.’

Adam grimaced at her but she just smiled back and made shooing gestures with her hands, although she was fully aware of why he was reluctant to go. Adam hated Jack’s father with a passion, and had done for years – ever since a few stray nasty comments had really hit home. In fact, Emily was pretty sure that if Adam had known the old man was going to be here, he would not have made an appearance, threats or no threats. With one last sneer in her direction, Adam followed Jack and Mary into the lounge-room, and Sybil followed him.

Emily lit the gas ring and replaced the kettle. Then, waiting for it to boil, she leant against the counter and gazed out into the backyard. This was easy to do as somebody had opened the vertical blinds on the windows and sliding door, unfortunately exposing the fact that they obviously hadn’t been cleaned recently. What
was
it that Jill did with her time?

When the kettle finally boiled, Emily filled the large coffee plunger and put it onto a lacquered tray that she had found at the back of a cupboard. Then she added some mugs, sugar, and a little crystal creamer full of milk. As she was smiling at her efforts at domesticity, she noticed that Megan was still sitting at
the table, and once more staring outside while nervously plaiting the ends of her hair.

‘Megan?’

‘What?’

To Emily’s surprise, the girl had jumped nervously at the sound of her name and was now looking at her aunt defensively. Emily frowned and then suddenly remembered Megan had asked to speak to her yesterday, about something private. What with the rush and bustle of getting everything ready, she had forgotten all about it, but now she wondered if it was connected to the way Megan was looking so withdrawn and distracted.

‘Um, didn’t you want to talk to me about something?’

‘Yeah, but there’s, you know, too many people here now.’

‘No, that’s fine. Just give me a minute to get rid of this coffee and we’ll go somewhere and talk. Okay?’

‘Doesn’t matter, anyway. Like, there’s nothing you can do.’

‘You never know.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Megan said glumly, sticking the end of her plait in her mouth and mumbling through it. ‘Nothing anyone can do. Now.’

‘Even if that’s true, sometimes it helps just to talk about things, you know?’

‘S’pose.’

‘So that’s settled. Stay right there.’ Emily smiled supportively at her niece as she picked up the heavy tray and lugged it through to the lounge-room. The television volume had been turned down even further to allow for the various conversations that were taking place. Kate was sitting on the floor, desultorily throwing the dice into the flapjack box, while next to her, Matt was testing some type of motorised horseracing game with Cricket’s help. Watching them benignly, Emily’s mother was now ensconced in the only armchair, her crochet hook flying through a large vivid
square made up of red, yellow, and three different shades of purple. On the three-seater couch, the Carstairs were still sitting stiffly in exactly the same positions they’d been in earlier. Even the large platter of sandwiches hadn’t moved. Beside them, Charlotte was perched watching the game in progress on the floor. Emily spared a moment to wonder again at what a strange child she was. Any other eleven year old would have been stretched out on the floor and joining in the fun.

On the other side of the room, Adam was sitting on the floor, leaning casually against the two-seater couch and talking to Jack, who was looking extremely uncomfortable. Mainly because Sybil had perched herself next to him. As Emily watched with amusement, she stretched out one long, slim leg and, ever so slowly, crossed it over another long, slim leg. The end result was that the black skirt worked its way to the upper thigh region and stayed there.

‘Coffee, anyone?’ Emily put the tray down carefully on the table. ‘Just help yourselves. Everything’s there.’

‘I didn’t win flapjack,’ Cricket confided to her aunt with a downcast face. ‘And I
tho
want my thlinky.’

‘I’m sure you’ll win something soon,’ replied Emily encouragingly as she straightened the sugar and creamer and then stepped back. ‘Come on, help yourselves!’

‘
Shoot
!’ exclaimed Matt, holding up an empty glass bowl and staring with surprise at the pile of corn chips on the carpet. ‘I barely nudged it!’

‘Clean it up,’ said his father wearily.

‘Sure.’ Matt looked around expectantly, as if waiting for a helpful maid to materialise and take over. ‘Um, where’s the vacuum kept?’

‘No vacuum!’ shouted Jack, Adam and Emily in unison. They turned and grinned at each other.

‘It’d be just like having my other sister here,’ Adam explained to Sybil with an exaggerated shudder. ‘She’s a fiend with a vacuum.’

‘How interesting.’

‘So what do I do?’ asked Matt, taking the uppermost chip from the pile on the carpet and eating it. ‘Work my way through them?’

‘Just, ah, pick it up, mate,’ said Jack. ‘Chuck it back in the bowl and take it out to the kitchen.’

‘Isn’t anybody going to have some coffee,’ asked Emily plaintively, ‘or have I been slaving over a hot stove for nothing?’

‘Thanks, Em.’ Adam stretched over and started to pour himself a cup. ‘Anyone else?’

‘Please,’ said Sybil with a slow smile in his direction. ‘As black as you can get it.’

‘Prefer tea,’ James Carstairs snapped, glowering at the coffee pot. ‘Should’ve asked me.’

‘I’ll get it, love.’

‘No, Mum.’ Jack jumped up from the two-seater with relief. ‘Stay there, I’ll get it. And do you want me to take those sandwiches, Dad?’

‘Ah ha!’ His father looked jubilantly at his son and then, pulling his sleeve back, held up his watch ostentatiously. ‘Only taken twenty-eight minutes and fourteen seconds exactly for someone to ask me!’

‘
I
asked you, Jim,’ said his wife placatingly, ‘I asked you when we first got here.’

‘Doesn’t count.’

‘Nasty old bastard,’ Emily muttered under her breath as she left the room, passing Matt in the doorway. Back in the family room, Megan was sitting where she had left her, still sucking her hair and still looking miserable. Emily smiled at the girl and opened her mouth.

‘You said bastard,’ commented Cricket from behind her. ‘I heard you.’

‘And that’s another mark for you, young lady.’ Jack swept past, deposited the sandwiches on the bench and added a cross to the whiteboard. ‘Now, where does Jill keep the bloody tea-bags?’

‘Come on, Megan.’ Emily grabbed her niece’s elbow and levered her up. ‘Let’s find some privacy.’

‘What for?’ Jack stopped rummaging through the cupboards and looked over at them distrustfully. ‘You’re not escaping, are you?’

‘C’n I come too?’ Cricket asked hopefully. ‘I can be good! I promise!’

‘No – and no.’ Emily pulled Megan towards the passage doorway. ‘We’ll be back in a minute.’

Once through the doorway, Megan pushed her way in front and led Emily down the passage to her bedroom. The room itself was one of the neater ones in the house, although this was probably because almost the entire space was taken up by a white Queen Anne double bed. This left very little floor to be covered with clothing, or books, or whatever it was that teenagers generally covered their floors with. As soon as they entered the room, Megan shut the door securely and leant against it with her arms behind her back, while Emily flopped down onto the half-made bed, and looked across at her niece curiously.

‘All right then, spit it out. What’s up?’ Emily smiled encouragingly as she mentally tried to guess what the big problem was going to be – what to wear on a special date? How long before puppy fat finally disappears? What does French-kissing really entail?

‘I’m pregnant.’

Emily’s mouth fell open and she stared at Megan with disbelief. Her eyes involuntarily fell to the girl’s waistline and
then rose back to her face as she frowned and shook her head in denial. Not Megan. Not clean, neat, reliable, organised, helpful Megan. The only one of Jill’s children who seemed capable of ironing her clothes, or brushing her hair. Not Megan. Stunned into temporary silence, she waited for her niece to add something to her pronouncement – an explanation, perhaps. But Megan, whose steady gaze had not left her aunt, just leant against the door and waited herself. And something in the set of her face said this wasn’t a joke, that she really
was
pregnant. Nevertheless, Emily shook her head again.

‘You can’t be.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know.’ Emily racked her brain for a suitable reason but couldn’t find one. ‘You just can’t.’

‘But I am.’

‘How? No –’ Emily held out her hand – ‘no, I didn’t mean that. I meant . . . um, well – god, Megan, you’re only sixteen!’

‘And a half.’

‘So?’ Emily could hear her voice getting higher. ‘That’s still sixteen now, isn’t it? God! How could you have let this happen? Sixteen! What’re your
parents
going to say?’

‘I don’t know,’ Megan mumbled, finally breaking eye contact with her aunt and glancing down at her feet instead. And as Emily continued to stare incredulously, a single tear dribbled down Megan’s left cheek and then swung inwards to pool along her lower lip, which started to tremble.

‘Oh, Megan, come here.’ Emily reached out for her niece and gathered her in her arms. Megan, still crying quietly, settled clumsily down on the bed and put her head on Emily’s shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes, with Emily hugging her niece as they rocked lightly on the bed. Then Emily, awkwardly digging in her side-pocket, managed to fish out a handkerchief. As she pressed it into Megan’s hands, this rather
innocuous and well-meaning act seemed to release the flood-gates. Suddenly, the quiet, controlled weeping became full-blown crying – huge, hard, hiccuping wails gulped against Emily’s shoulder and shuddering through both their bodies in unison. Emily, having absolutely no idea what to do, just held her niece as she sobbed, patting her back ineffectually and muttering ridiculous platitudes like ‘It’s going to be all right’, when it quite obviously was not going to be anything of the sort. Where the
hell
was Jillian?

‘I’m, I’m going to – going to –’ hiccuped Megan, as the jagged sobs finally started to peter off into blubbery sniffles – ‘
kill
myself!’

‘No you’re not.’ Emily lifted the girl away from her and, with a hand on each of Megan’s shoulders, stared at her sternly. ‘Do you hear me? No – you – are – not. That is
never
an answer when you’re young and healthy. We’ll work something out. We will.’

‘Like what?’ sniffed Megan, roughly wiping her eyes with the handkerchief and then blowing her nose loudly.

‘Like . . .’

‘Exactly.’

Emily let go of Megan’s shoulders but maintained eye contact. ‘Look, why don’t you give me some background here. Then I might be able to come up with a few ideas . . . or something.’

‘Okay.’ Megan balled the handkerchief up and stared down at it.

‘Firstly, who is he and how long have you been seeing each other?’

‘Justin. And we’ve been going out for, like, about ten months.’

‘Oh,’ said Emily with some relief, ‘at least that’s something.’

‘Yeah!’ Megan brightened a bit. ‘And Mum and Dad think he’s cool too.’

‘That’ll soon change,’ muttered Emily, and then caught sight of her niece’s face. ‘I mean, that’s good! That’s really good!’

‘Yeah.’

‘So, is he still at school?’

‘Yep. He’s in Year Eleven, same as me.’

‘Does he know?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Megan nodded.

‘Okay, now for some harder questions.’ Emily fixed her niece with what she hoped was a sympathetic yet stern look. ‘How long have you two been . . . having sex?’

‘Not long.’

‘How long?’

‘Just once,’ muttered Megan, and the tears started to trickle again.

‘Just
once
?’

‘Yeah.’ Megan started ripping at the edges of the damp handkerchief. ‘And it’s
so
unfair! Like, I know girls who do it all the time, and this
never
happens to them. Why me? I only did it once, and now this!
So
unfair.’

‘Well, that’s life,’ said Emily shortly, ‘and once is enough.’

‘Still unfair.’

‘Okay, it’s unfair. Have you taken a pregnancy test?’

‘No way!’ Megan looked horrified. ‘If I go to our doctor, she’ll just tell Mum!’

‘I’m guessing your mum’ll notice sooner or later anyway,’ said Emily wryly. ‘Besides, I don’t think doctors are allowed to do that. It’s against the law.’

‘Don’t care. I’m not going there.’

‘You don’t have to.’ Emily jumped off the bed. ‘We’ll get a home pregnancy test. Today. From the chemist. Because there’s no point worrying until we’re absolutely certain, one hundred percent certain, that’s there’s something to worry about.’