Each Way Bet (18 page)

‘Looks like Little Orphan Annie,’ added Tim.

‘I don’t know who dressed her this morning,’ Jill flashed an accusing glance at Emily, ‘but I assure you that she does have
some
decent clothes.’

‘I didn’t mean her clothes,’ Tim said, embarrassed, ‘I meant her looks.’

‘Hey, how about we play the next game?’ suggested Matt. ‘It’s all set up.’

‘Okay. And what
am
I doing?’ Jill looked down at the plates in her hands with surprise, and then passed them over to Emily. ‘These are all yours, aren’t they?’

‘No problem.’ Emily placed the pile carefully onto the table. ‘After the game, though. Otherwise, everyone’ll get impatient.’

‘I
really
didn’t mean her clothes,’ Tim said to nobody in particular, ‘it’s the red hair and all. Not the clothes.’

‘Oh, angora wool!’ Mary held up a double ball of fluffy pea-green wool. ‘Lovely! I shall crochet this straight into the rug I’m making for that frigid girl.’

‘Frigid girl?’ repeated Jill in confusion.

‘Oddly enough, I think she means me.’ Sybil looked amused.

‘Really,’ said Jill frostily, raising her eyebrows as she glanced down at Sybil’s expanse of tanned leg.

‘Okay!’ Adam clapped his hands and stood up. ‘Let’s get to the game! Matt, what is it, and where is it?’

‘Outside. It’s drawn up on the concrete out there.’

‘Hang on, Adam! The pens, remember?’

‘Oh, you won’t need pens for this game, Aunt Em.’ Matt opened the sliding door for the players. ‘It’s all done with chalk. Come on.’

Jill waited until everybody had slowly trooped through the sliding door, and then quickly tidied the dining-room table and took the dishes over to the island bench. While she had no
intention of actually washing any of them, she still preferred to have the mess centralised, so to speak. After running a damp cloth over the table, Jill threw it skilfully into the sink and ducked next door to assess its state of cleanliness. To her surprise, the first thing she saw was her father-in-law, still firmly ensconced on the three-seater couch.

‘James! I thought you’d be outside playing games.’

‘And pigs might fly.’

‘Come on,’ Jill smiled at him encouragingly, ‘you’ll enjoy it.’

‘Then why aren’t you out there?’

‘I just thought I’d clean up quickly in here . . .’ Jill glanced around as she said this and her voice faltered to a stop as the extent of the damage became clear. Around her feet was a scattering of corn chips which had been ground into the carpet at regular intervals. There were cushions and form guides over all available seats, and a multitude of torn-up betting slips spread across the carpet. There was a collection of dirty mugs on the coffee table, complete with an upturned sugar bowl that sat like a crystallised island in the middle of a shallow lake of congealed coffee. The sandwich platter was balanced on the armrest of the two-seater couch laden with an assortment of crusts, rejected slices of gherkin and the cat, who was happily licking up titbits. Two smudged wine glasses sat on the Perspex lid of the stereo cabinet and a long thread of green wool snaked out from underneath the armchair to the far corner, where it had been wound many times around the remote control.

‘Pretty bad, huh?’ James nodded smugly as Jill continued to stare silently at the mess. ‘Yep, pretty bad. There’s a cat eating off the plate there, too. Thought you were having a break? That your sister was doing everything?’

‘So did I.’

‘Huh,’ James levered himself out of his seat slowly. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

‘Thanks, James,’ Jill smiled at him in gratitude, ‘I really appreciate it.’

They started on the coffee table, piling the mugs and sugar onto the sandwich platter with its remnants and taking it through to the kitchen. The cat leapt sideways as Jill took the platter from underneath it and, giving her a haughty look, stalked out of the room and up the passage. Then, while James wiped the surfaces with the damp cloth, Jill started to tidy up the two-seater. She stacked the form guides together and placed them on the newly cleaned coffee table, and then straightened the cushions. While doing this she found a handful of pens tucked down the side of the couch, so she gathered them up and took them through to the kitchen to put into the red plastic tumbler she used to hold spare pens and pencils. But as she slid them in, she noticed one pen with a much stranger shape than the others. Feeling only mildly curious, she took it back out and held it up for a closer look.

‘My god!’ Jill dropped it onto the counter in shock and then, after staring at it for a few seconds, picked it up gingerly again. Only to find that she hadn’t been mistaken at all – it was indeed a pregnancy test. And, judging from the smudges inside the little window, a used pregnancy test at that. What on
earth
was a used pregnancy test doing lying on her two-seater couch? Maybe it had fallen out of the pocket of
that
woman? Or maybe . . . Jill froze momentarily as the thought hit her – maybe it was Emily’s. She was the only other realistic candidate, and she
had
been pretty insistent about finding the pens before. So maybe she knew it was mixed up with them. Jill turned the test over in search of clues, a name-tag perhaps, but it told her little except that whoever had used it was most probably pregnant. Because showing faintly through the blurriness of the little window was a smeary blue line.

‘Why didn’t you tell us the next race was about to start?’
Adam stormed through the sliding door and gave his sister an accusatory look as he continued through to the lounge-room. Following close on his heels were Jack, Kate and Matt, with the latter two jockeying for position as they squeezed through the doorway into the lounge-room. Sybil and Tim came next, with Charlotte, Mary and Margaret behind them, and Emily and Megan last of all. Incredibly, although each person acknowledged Jill’s presence in some way, not a single one commented on the damning strip of white plastic she held aloft in her right hand. In fact, the only person who even stopped to speak was Emily. She glanced across at the clean table and then grinned at her sister.

‘It’s a compulsion, isn’t it? You just
had
to clean up.’

‘That’s right,’ Jill said evenly, swaying the pregnancy test slowly back and forward to see if Emily noticed it. ‘I’m cursed.’

‘Would you believe that we didn’t even start the game? Matt took forever explaining the instructions, then Mum got her poncho caught on the rose bush and started turning in circles so someone had to hold her still while everyone else extricated her. And while we were doing that, Charlotte tripped over Kate’s foot and went flat on her face.’

‘Was she hurt?’ asked Jill, but only because it seemed to be expected. After all, she had just seen Charlotte walk past and she seemed her usual self. Unfortunately. She stopped waving the test from side to side and started moving it up and down instead.

‘No, in fact I don’t think she even changed expression. Is she odd or what?’ Emily shook her head and went on without waiting for an answer: ‘Anyway, then we’re just about to start and Adam realised the fifth race was –’

‘Emily,’ Jill interrupted, bringing the test a little closer to her sister’s face and waving it gently again.

‘What? I was just saying . . .’ Emily trailed off as she finally
focused on what it was that Jill was holding. She watched it wave in front of her face for a few seconds, her head moving with it as if she were being hypnotised. Finally she reached out and, grasping it at the other end, turned it over in Jill’s hand until she could see the little window.

‘Shit, it’s positive.’

‘So you do know something about it then?’

‘Um . . . ah,’ Emily released the test and sighed hugely. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘My god! Why didn’t you
tell
me?’ Jill put the test down on the counter and beamed at her sister. ‘When we were talking yesterday, you never even gave me a clue! Not a clue! I mean, you could have told
me
! Em, how marvellous! Congratulations! I really mean that, I’m so pleased for you. Hey, is Tim the father?’

‘Tim?’ Emily repeated stupidly. ‘The father?’

‘Oh god!’ Jill came around the counter and wrapped both arms around her sister. ‘I can’t believe this. The kids are going to be thrilled. A new baby cousin. Oh, it’ll be so lovely to have a little baby in the family again. Especially one that
isn’t
mine.’ Jill released Emily and stood back, still beaming. ‘A baby! I’ll have to dig up all the kids’ old baby clothes. And I’ve still got Cricket’s cot, you’ll be needing that. And her playpen. But maybe you’ll want all new stuff, and why not? You should
see
the baby things you can get now. Oh, Em – this is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait! I really, really
can’t
wait!’

‘Oh,’ said Emily in a strange voice, ‘I think you can. Really, I do.’

‘Nonsense!’ Jill grinned, her enthusiasm not dampened in the slightest. ‘I’m getting out the champagne. At last, something to celebrate. Absolutely fan-bloody-tastic!’

Race Five, 1.25 pm

‘We’re celebrating!’ Jill came through the doorway bearing a silver tray on which a bottle of champagne was flanked by several flutes.

‘I’m not,’ muttered Adam, tearing up yet another betting slip and tucking the scraps into the side of the couch.

‘I am!’ Kate turned from where she was writing on the kids’ results sheet. ‘My new system is really bringing home the dividends!’

‘Think I’d better try it,’ said Jack dolefully, getting up briefly to turn the television down and then glancing in his wife’s general direction. ‘So what is it we’re celebrating?’

‘Well . . .’ Jill laid the tray carefully down on the coffee table and passed the bottle over to Jack to open. ‘It’s actually Emily’s news, so I’ll let her announce it.’

‘Jill . . .’ Emily had followed her sister into the lounge-room but hung around the doorway feeling far from celebratory. Things seemed to be spiralling out of her control and she wasn’t quite sure how to rescue herself without landing Megan in it. And in front of everybody too. Her only chance
to take charge had been right at the beginning when Jill had first shown her the pregnancy test, but back then she had been so surprised that she hadn’t – and so Jill had.

‘Come on.’ Jill came over and grabbed Emily by the elbow. ‘You’ll feel much better about it once it’s out in the open. Then you can move forward and enjoy it.’

‘Jill, I don’t –’

‘After what you were telling me yesterday, I’d have thought you’d be thrilled!’

‘Yes, but you see –’

‘Look, if you’re too embarrassed, I’ll do it. Okay?’

‘You don’t understand! It’s not . . .’ Emily petered off as she looked around at the assorted company, who were all watching them curiously, waiting for some sort of announcement. Then her gaze settled on Megan, who didn’t look like she was concentrating on what was going on at all. She just sat playing with her bracelets and looking pale and depressed, and suddenly Emily knew that there was no way she could announce right there and then that in fact she
wasn’t
pregnant – and that Megan was. She had to give the girl time to sit down, by herself, with her parents. So, after a couple of seconds of deliberation, Emily finally looked back at her sister: ‘Listen, Jill – you’re right. I
am
too embarrassed, so how about we do this later? Hey?’

‘Too late!’ Jack flicked the cork out with a throaty pop, and then leant forward to hold the frothing champagne over the glasses. ‘The champagne’s opened so it has to be now.’

‘It’ll be okay, I promise.’ Jill smiled down at her happily and then turned to everybody. ‘Emily’s feeling a bit uncharacteristically shy so I’ll steal her thunder. She’s pregnant!’

‘What?’

‘She’s
not
!’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘My word!’

Emily was nearly knocked backwards as Adam jumped up and embraced her, momentarily deafening her by shouting congratulations straight into her right ear. Over his shoulder she could see Jack passing out overflowing champagne flutes. Sybil took a glass and raised it towards her in a salute and, over in the armchair, she could see her mother muttering about baby patterns and rummaging around in her crochet bag. Nearby, Margaret Carstairs was blinking with pleasure and, next to her, even Charlotte was looking impressed. In fact, everybody appeared to be pretty happy with the news – everybody, that is, except three people.

Unsurprisingly, James Carstairs was frowning in disapproval, no doubt because of her unwed state. Equally unsurprisingly, Megan had gone a whiter shade of pale and was staring at her aunt open-mouthed. But it was Tim who Emily was most concerned about. Looking totally stunned, he took the glass of champagne that Jack thrust in his hand like an automated robot, but did not take his questioning eyes off Emily. Jill, who was still standing centre-stage and obviously hugely enjoying the reaction to the news, suddenly followed Emily’s gaze and looked over at Tim. Her eyes widened as she took in his shock.

‘Oh my god. You didn’t know,’ Jill said slowly, staring at him, ‘you didn’t know.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ he replied, shaking his head.

‘Oh god.’ Jill whipped around to face Emily. ‘
That’s
why you didn’t want to say anything. Oh, Em, I’m
so
sorry. I’m an idiot! I just thought . . . I just
assumed
that you’d told him. But, of course, you didn’t even have time. I am so,
so
sorry.’

‘Hang on.’ Adam finally released his sister and turned to Tim with a frown. ‘My god!
You’re
the father?
You
!’

‘Ha, ha,’ Sybil chuckled appreciatively, as if Adam had made a rather good joke.

‘No, stop!’ Emily put up her hand. ‘You don’t –’

‘
You
?’ repeated Adam, still staring at Tim with disbelief. ‘This is crap. Total
crap
.’

‘My word,’ muttered Margaret, looking around for support, ‘my word.’

‘Why is it crap?’ Tim suddenly started to take umbrage. ‘What makes you think it’s crap, hey? Aren’t I good enough for your bloody family? And what’s it got to do with you, anyway? I can be a bloody father if I want to be!’

‘No you can’t!’

‘Yes I can!’

‘That’s more than three cwaps I heard, and one bloody.’ Cricket popped into the room. ‘And can I come back now?’

‘SHUT
UP
!’ screamed Emily, stamping her foot and glaring at them. ‘That’s
enough
! It’s my bloody baby and I don’t want to hear another
word
about it. Not another word! Do you understand?’ Emily looked forbiddingly from person to person and waited until each had slowly nodded in agreement before she moved on to the next. Last of all she looked across at Jill. ‘I know you meant well, but look – see what you’ve done?’

‘I am
so
sorry.’

‘I know,’ Emily grinned ruefully, though she didn’t feel particularly forgiving, ‘but you’ve made things worse. There’re issues here that you don’t understand and I have to sort out. So I don’t want to hear any more. I mean it. Not till I’m good and ready. In the meantime, let’s drink this champagne and then go and play Matt’s game. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

In the silence that followed, Emily went to the coffee table, helped herself to a glass of champagne and drained the lot. Then she put her glass down and picked up the champagne bottle.

‘My word, Emily dear,’ Margaret blinked, ‘should you be drinking like that?’

‘Yes,’ said Emily shortly, refilling her glass haphazardly.

‘She might be right.’ Adam looked at her askance. ‘I mean, I’m sorry if we upset you, but steady on, Em. You’re not just thinking of yourself now, you know.’

‘Quite clearly I am,’ replied Emily equably, draining that glass as well before putting it down and sighing, ‘that’s better! Now, let’s play!’

She walked from the lounge-room without a backwards glance, mainly because she didn’t really care whether anybody followed her or not, but she could hear the sound of footsteps and low-level muttering echoing behind her all the way to the sliding door, which somebody solicitously opened for her. Outside, the weather was pleasantly warm, with a clear, Wedgwood blue sky and very little breeze. Emily continued over to the concrete area that had once accommodated a Hills hoist but now served as a court for the basketball backboard and goal mounted on the side of the shed. This was the area where earlier Matt and Kate had meticulously chalked up an oversized playing-board for the next game. The roughly drawn board consisted of a series of huge squares, each big enough for at least two people to stand in, which stretched for the entire length of the concrete area, around its outer edge, and then back again. All of the squares were numbered and some also held instructions to be followed by whoever landed there.

‘Okay!’ Matt pushed his way forward, holding a foot-square dice made of green foam. ‘We’ve gone over all the instructions, so we’ll get straight into it. Everybody go to the start and throw the dice. Not at the same time, I mean – youngest first. That’s you, Cricket!’

Emily watched everybody shamble slowly to the starting line. Nobody looked particularly enthusiastic, and there appeared to be more people ignoring each other than actually getting along. Jill and Jack had hardly spoken since Jill
returned and every so often he could be seen giving her a dark look that spoke volumes about his current feelings. Meanwhile, Kate was intermittently glaring at Charlotte, Jill was intermittently glaring at the broken window, Cricket was intermittently glaring at Sybil, Emily’s mother was intermittently glaring at the rose bush, and James Carstairs, who had miraculously followed everyone outside, was intermittently glaring at each of them in turn. Then there was Megan, who just looked utterly miserable, and Adam and Tim, who were standing with their backs to each other at opposite ends of the group, both with narrow lips and folded arms. There was obviously bad blood there, but it was the least of Emily’s problems at the moment.

‘Your turn!’ Matt passed the dice across to Emily, who suddenly realised that the game had proceeded without her. She moved over to the starting line, where only her mother and the Carstairs remained, and took the dice from her nephew.

‘Hey, I thought it was youngest to oldest!’ she protested. ‘Do I
look
older than Jill? And Adam? And Jack?’

‘Only in the sunlight,’ said Jill with a smile.

‘It’s the quick or the dead,’ added Matt, ‘so throw it. Come on.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Emily threw the dice into the air and it tumbled across the concrete, past where the others were all obediently standing on their assigned squares. ‘A six! Is that good?’

‘You’re with me,’ called Jack, who was a fair bit ahead of the rest. ‘Go up six squares and then the one you land on says that you’ve just won the Caulfield Cup so go forward another four squares. You’ll end up here, with me.’

‘Excellent.’ Emily walked forward, counting out the required number of squares, as Matt passed the dice to Margaret Carstairs and the game went on. When Emily drew equal with Jack, she glanced up at him and grinned.

‘If we keep this up, we’ll be a shoo-in for the winners.’

‘Yeah,’ he replied, obviously uninterested in that side of things, before continuing in a low voice: ‘Listen, firstly I just want you to know that we’ll be behind you no matter what. You know, even if the father . . . if you can’t find him, or whatever.’

‘What do you mean, can’t find him?’ Emily looked at Jack curiously. ‘Like I’ve had so many partners in the last couple of months that I’m a bit confused? Or I got carried away at some nightclub and now I’ll need to organise a line-up? Or widespread DNA testing?’

‘No, nothing like that.’ Jack now looked as if he fervently wished that he hadn’t started the conversation, ‘I
know
you’d remember. It’s just I thought Tim looked a bit . . . well, surprised, and seeing as you haven’t been together very long that maybe – you know . . .’

‘You guys certainly have a warped view of single life, don’t you?’ Emily shook her head. ‘A bit too much
Sex and the City
, I think.’

‘Probably.’ Jack grinned back and then ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stand up in soft little blond spikes. ‘Listen, one other thing – have you told Jill you told me she told you she was leaving?’

‘No. I’ve barely spoken to her,’ Emily replied, her mind churning with the realisation that she had forgotten all about inadvertently telling Jack his wife’s plans. What with everything else that had happened since, she had totally pushed that minor detail to one side. And now that it was back, well – it just made everything even worse.

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t speak to her?’

‘Don’t tell her.’ Jack looked up as Adam counted out his steps and moved into the neighbouring square. ‘I’ll deal with it later.’

‘Deal with what later?’ asked Adam curiously.

‘Nothing that you need –’

‘Dad! Your turn!’

Matt shoved the dice into his father’s hands and waited until he had thrown it off to the side. It bounced against a rather sad looking shrub and came to land with a five uppermost, whereupon Matt immediately grabbed it, gestured for his father to get moving, and took the dice over to the next player. Emily reflected that he must definitely be a devotee of the ‘fast game’s a good game’ ethos.

‘Look, Em.’ Adam reached out and grabbed her elbow to get her attention. ‘I’m not being judgemental but – that Tim’s not
really
the father, is he?’

‘Why on
earth
do you hate him so much?’

‘What?’ Adam let go of her elbow and looked defensive. ‘Don’t even know the bloke!’

‘Oh come on, it’s obvious the two of you have met – and that you can’t stand each other.’

‘Dear
god
!’ Emily’s mother flapped her arms wildly, wrapping the entire left side of her poncho fringe even more securely into a luxuriant rose bush. ‘Can’t someone help me?’

Emily, who was further away than Jill, left it up to her sister to attempt the extrication. Margaret Carstairs came over to help and tried to keep Mary steady as Jill plucked the poncho off the thorns, stitch by stitch. While this proved rather entertaining for the players, Matt didn’t let it slow down the pace of the game, moving from person to person and thrusting the dice at them.

Emily turned back to Adam. ‘Okay – explain what’s going on.’

‘Uncle Adam! Your turn!’

‘Sorry – later,’ said Adam, smiling regretfully at his sister as he grabbed the dice, threw it along the ground and moved the required number of steps.

‘I’d say it was a lover’s tiff.’

‘
What
?’ Emily turned to Sybil, who had arrived on the square behind her and was watching Adam move away. ‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘Well, they’re both gay,’ Sybil said, looking down at her with amusement, ‘so it’s on the cards, isn’t it? You knew that, didn’t you? That they were gay?’

‘
What
?’

‘For goodness sake,’ yelled Jill impatiently, ‘keep still, Mum!’

‘I’m trying to,’ replied her mother plaintively.

‘
I
know.’ Jill pulled her mother a step away from the rose bush and then, with Margaret’s help, slipped the poncho up over her head, freeing her and revealing a crocheted vest of a speckled-brown colour. Mary flexed her arms happily and, leaving her poncho draped across the bush, rejoined the game.