Odd Socks (37 page)

‘Lucky it's not a straight staircase,' I observe calmly, ‘or you would have torpedoed all the way into the lounge-room.'

Maggie turns to the two boys. ‘Give her a hand into Terry's bedroom, will you, guys?'

We form an awkward procession back up the stairs and into my bedroom, where Cam collapses in an ungainly heap on the bed. She groans, holding a hand to her head and a tissue to her mouth. I fetch a packet of painkillers from the ensuite and, popping two out of the foil, pass them to her with the glass of wine she had deserted earlier.

‘Here, take these.'

‘Are you okay, Mum?' asks Ben, backing towards the doorway with Michael.

‘Well,' I say cheerfully, ‘look on the bright side – at least you got out of the bedroom for a minute!'

‘God! My head!' Cam pops the tablets in her mouth and takes a gulp of wine, which immediately starts dribbling out one side of her mouth. She rams the tissue against it and sighs miserably.

‘Was that
you
crashing down the stairs, Mummy?' asks CJ, looking through the doorway. ‘Are you okay?'

‘She'll be fine in a minute, CJ,' says Maggie optimistically. ‘So off you go and play. You too, boys.'

‘Sorry, Mum,' mumbles Ben as he exits the room quickly, pulling Michael with him. CJ hovers around the doorway and looks at her mother.

‘Mummy, is that Rudolph man here today?'

‘No,' replies her mother with a groan.

‘Is he coming?'

‘
No!
'

‘Oh. Okay.' CJ swings around the doorframe and disappears.

‘Who's Rudolph?' asks Maggie, frowning at Cam apprehensively. ‘Is he the one with the beard that Terry was talking about?'

‘No one!' Cam massages her forehead. ‘Oh, my
head
!'

‘Hmm.' Maggie drains her glass and passes it over to me. ‘Tell you what. Get me another drink and I'll stay with her for a bit. We'll talk – more.'

‘Have mine.' I point to the glass I'd left on the bedside table. ‘I haven't touched it.'

‘Excellent.'

‘Well, I'll be off.' I sidle over to the door. ‘Come downstairs as soon as you can, Cam. The painkillers should kick in soon.'

‘My bloody
head
!'

I open the door and slip outside to the landing. Bonnie looks up at me curiously and I smile down at her although I'm pretty sure she doesn't recognise me – after all, we haven't seen each other for several years. There'll be time enough for introductions later. She's very pretty in a brown sort of way, with dark-brown hair, golden-brown skin and chocolate-brown eyes. Must take after Amy's side of the family. She drops her gaze as CJ passes her a dull red spleen, which is much the same colour as her mother's chin, and they busy themselves positioning it. I run down the stairs and past the boys, who have unhooked their Gameboys, no doubt for safety reasons, and are dangling the cord through the balustrade instead. When I get to the foyer I hear a door open upstairs and then the sound of a multitude of feet stamping down the stairs. I turn to see what's up and then quickly flatten myself against the wall as a veritable tribe of young women, and a couple of young men, tramp past me towards the food tables. They are being led by Bronte, who is holding a sleeping Sherry in her arms.

Pat, Trevor and Bob bring up the rear and smile at me as they pass through into the lounge-room. I follow in their wake and, just as I step into the room, leap nimbly skywards as the cane whistles through the air at shin height. I land neatly and look narrowly across at old Mother Hubbard. But she's still staring expressionlessly into the middle distance. I think I need a sign here to warn unsuspecting guests before I'm sued.

I send one more threatening look towards the old biddy before squeezing my way through the throng around the tables to help myself to something to eat. I've just realised I'm starving. But the only thing I can reach is one of Nick and Bronte's party pies, because the flock of females have spread themselves around the tables two-deep to forage for food. A black-clad, nose-pierced goth next to me snares a couple of
meatballs with a cocktail stick and suddenly turns to sniff the air before narrowing her eyes and peering around warily.

‘There's fuckin' bad feng shui in this room,' she announces darkly, ‘fuckin' bad.'

Well, that's a conversation killer. I grab a couple more party pies and, while nibbling them, walk slowly over to the French doors. Then I take a deep breath and open them quickly before I change my mind.

‘Hey, Terry!' calls Alex, who is sitting back at his original table. ‘Over here! I saved a seat for you.'

‘Thanks.' I shut the doors and head over to their table, where I settle myself down beside him. Diane passes me a glass of champagne and we grin at each other.

‘Seems to be going well,' she says happily.

‘Thank god,' I agree, taking only a small sip of the champagne because I've decided to cut down on my drinking today. I've a feeling I'm going to need my wits about me, or at least somewhere in the vicinity.

‘Hey, have you seen Cam?' asks Alex.

‘Don't ask.'

‘God, what's she done now?'

‘Don't ask.'

‘Okay,' he grins. ‘As long as it's not serious . . . is it?'

‘No.'

‘Fine.'

They all launch once more into a discussion of whether Fitzroy should ever have been allowed to merge with Brisbane, and what this meant for the legion of Victorian fans. I lean back and glance casually over towards the other table so that I can tune in on the conversation there.

‘So, you see – if you empty your mind, and I mean
totally
drain it –' Joanne looks around her audience zealously ‘– it's like giving it a thorough clean. You know how if you let your
car run low on petrol and then it picks up all the crap from the bottom of the tank? Well, sometimes
it
needs to be flushed as well. And the mind's just the same . . .'

I tune back out and concentrate instead on the people who are listening in to this theory with varying degrees of interest. Richard is watching Joanne politely with a small smile while Phillip is gazing into the distance, his mind obviously on higher things. Next to him, with her brow creased, Elizabeth is nodding every so often and Fergus . . . to my amazement I realise that Fergus is hanging on every word and looking totally enthralled.

‘Richard, mate!' David calls across to the other table. ‘Come and join us! Actually, why don't you lot shove your table over here and we'll all join forces?'

As everyone agrees to this plan, the other table is carried over and slid into position. Then there is a great deal of chair rearranging and general jostling as everybody gets themselves comfortable. Maggie comes out as this is going on and is greeted all around while she finds herself a seat. Somehow I end up next to Richard, but with Fergus on my other side. Joanne hovers by my chair as if hoping that a spare seat will materialise on this side of the table, so I surreptitiously sidle my chair a trifle closer to Richard.

‘What did you think of our little surprise,' she asks me, gesturing with her head towards him. ‘Bet you never guessed that!'

‘No, I never guessed that,' I agree readily with a quick smile at Richard. ‘Not in a million years.'

‘I
tried
to give you a clue,' she continues happily. ‘Didn't you notice what I was wearing on Tuesday? Brown bottom, green top – it was supposed to represent the family tree. I can't believe nobody picked up on it!'

‘Neither can I.'

‘And the other thing I needed to tell you, Terry –' Joanne bobs down so that she can impart this without being overheard ‘– I cast your horoscope this morning and I'm afraid there was a dire prediction for you.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. It was quite emphatic that you had to get out of whatever relationship you're in at the moment.' She casts a glance over her shoulder towards Fergus. ‘He's
not
right for you and you're probably holding him back from true happiness – oh, and yourself, of course.'

‘Seriously?' I pay her a little more attention now because this seems fairly apt advice, given the circumstances. Maybe Cam's right, and I
am
preventing myself from moving forward.

‘Absolutely.' She stands up again and then, as no seat has miraculously appeared, wanders over to the other end of the two tables and sits down there. Where she proceeds to chew her fingernails and watch me carefully. And while it's a disconcerting feeling, I really appreciate the fact she is so obviously concerned about my wellbeing.

‘And what's happening then?' asks Fergus as he takes a sip of beer and eyes me thoughtfully over the brim. ‘Anything I should be knowing?'

‘Why do you ask?' I look quickly away from Joanne and towards him.

‘Oh, maybe it's just I was seeing you before – with that guy.'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' I whisper, so that Richard can't hear. ‘I only just met him, for god's sake.'

‘Didn't look like that to me.'

‘Well, I did. And I'm not talking about this now.' I tilt my head back and stare at the blossoms dripping from the beams. Every so often a gust of wind filters through and they rustle, with the odd white petal floating down to the table.

‘Suit yourself,' says Fergus stiffly as he stands, picks up his
glass and moves over to a spare seat at the other end of the tables. It happens to be next to Joanne, who nods sagely at me as if her predictions are already starting to unfold. As soon as Fergus vacates his chair, Maggie slips across into it and looks at me curiously.

‘What's up?'

‘Nothing,' I reply shortly. ‘I don't want to talk about it.'

‘Hmm, okay.' Maggie regards me. ‘Now fill me in, who's this Rudolph? Cam won't tell me.'

‘No one!'

‘I'll find out, you realise. One way or the other.'

‘Oh, Maggie.' I laugh down at her. ‘So, anyway, how's Cam?'

‘She'll be down in a minute,' Maggie whispers loudly. ‘She's just about back to normal. And I
will
find out – about Rudolph.'

‘Good.' I glance up towards the house but Cam isn't in sight yet. Instead I observe her mother, who has paused on her way to the kitchen with a plate in her hands. She is gazing pensively at Richard. I glance at him to see if he has noticed, but he seems perfectly oblivious.

‘Look,' says Phillip, who is sitting next to Maggie, ‘should I be worried?'

‘Oh.' I follow his gaze over to the other side of the tables, where Dennis has managed to position himself next to Elizabeth and has his arm reclining casually across the back of her chair. I can tell by his body language, as well as the admiring glances he keeps casting towards her leather-sheathed legs, that he has commenced stalking his prey.

‘Hmm,' says Maggie enigmatically.

‘That's Dennis,' I inform Phillip. ‘My ex-husband – Bronte's father.'

‘Oh,' he says with relief, ‘that's all right then.'

‘No it isn't,' I reply shortly.

‘Quite the reverse,' adds Maggie.

‘I see,' says Phillip slowly, staring over at his fiancée.

I'm aware of Richard listening with interest to this conversation but I like Phillip, and Dennis has hurt enough people already. I reach out to pick up a cracker off the platter in front of us and, as Richard is doing the exact same thing, our hands inadvertently touch again. The same electric shock. The same silence. The same mutual recognition. I wonder briefly if it would get boring after a while and then decide that, no – it wouldn't.

‘Ah well,' sighs Phillip after a few minutes, leaning back and picking up his glass of beer. ‘Beth's a big girl. Quite capable of looking after herself and, if she isn't . . .'

‘You'd rather know now?' asks Maggie.

‘Something like that,' says Phillip, lapsing into silence once more.

Cam chooses that moment to make her entrance, shutting the French doors behind her and grinning at us with a smile that doesn't reach quite as far as usual. She's definitely not looking her best. Pink splotches show faintly through the thick make-up around her mouth and chin, and the lower half of her face looks a little slacker than it normally does. I'm guessing the magic ointment still has some wearing off to do yet. On top of this, literally, are her eyes, which have got the squinty look they always develop whenever she has a bad headache.

‘Hi there!' calls Alex, obviously noticing no difference in his beloved as he drags a spare chair over between him and Richard. ‘Sit here, Cam. With Diane on my right hand and you on my left hand, I'll be all set!'

‘I'll say,' I comment, ‘and pretty busy too!'

‘Yeah! Leave my wife alone!' says David with an exaggerated frown as everybody chortles appreciatively and Maggie lets out a couple of guffaws. ‘Anyone'd think it was Christmas!'

‘Not Christmas!' I cry in mock horror, looking from Alex to Cam, who both flush. Which, in Cam's case, is a definite improvement as it turns the rest of her face the same colour as the splotches.

‘Drink, Cam?' asks Diane, leaning in front of Alex. ‘Champagne? Hey, are you all right? You look a bit–weird.'

‘What's new?' asks Elizabeth wittily.

‘Yes, please,' says Cam, sending first me and then Elizabeth a filthy look as she sits down.

‘Hello,' says Richard politely, half rising until Cam sits, ‘Camilla.'

‘Oh, Richard!' Cam looks taken aback, as if she had forgotten his existence momentarily. ‘Um, have you been introduced to everyone?'

‘Of
course
he has,' says Alex. ‘We're treating him just like one of the family now.'

‘Poor you,' says Cam, smiling rather shyly at her new brother.

‘No,' he smiles back, ‘not at all.'