Odd Socks (39 page)

‘I don't think it's all
that
funny,' states Diane, looking with sisterly disapproval at Elizabeth. ‘So she thought it was a girl, so what?'

‘True.' Alex glances down at Cam, who is staring at her sister expressionlessly while she plays with the stem of her champagne flute. ‘And it could have been worse. Imagine if she'd decided to assist the birth
manually
!'

This observation breaks up the company once more. David and Fergus double up with laughter while Joanne puzzles that one out and Diane tries not to grin. Elizabeth just smiles serenely at Cam, and Cam looks evenly back. I glance up to see what reaction Richard is having to this fun and frivolity and note that he is watching the three sisters with a small half-smile on his face. It obviously hasn't taken him long to pick up on the vibes.

‘Oh lord!' Dennis looks up towards the ceiling. ‘In my next life let me come back as Camilla's guinea pig –
please
!'

‘To be sure, you wouldn't be saying that if she'd decided on
a forceps delivery,' Fergus points out. ‘And she'd be having to use her eyebrow pluckers!'

‘Well, you pack of idiots, she
didn't
assist the birth,' I say loudly, lying through my teeth, ‘and I can vouch for that because
I
was there too. What's more, I thought the same thing she did. So you see, it might sound funny but it's not that stupid a mistake to make.'

‘No,' says Cam, flashing me an appreciative grin. ‘And let's leave it there, shall we? I now officially hate guinea pigs.'

‘They're really called cavies,' instructs Phillip pedantically.

‘Don't care what they're called,' replies Cam, taking a careful sip of wine. ‘Hate them anyway.'

‘Never been one for guinea pigs personally,' says Fergus to Joanne, ‘but we were having rabbits one time when I was a youngster. Ah, but they were lovely little fluffy things. Would you like to be hearing the story of our rabbits, then?'

I watch the two of them thoughtfully as Fergus launches into his rabbit story, which I've heard several times. I'm going to have to have a talk with Fergus at some stage – just not now. At least he seems to be enjoying himself talking to Joanne, who can be good company when she leaves all the New Age stuff alone. Today she's wearing a deep-purple pantsuit, so I'm not sure what that means. But if the glow on her face is anything to go by, it means happiness. I must remember to ask her later what's making her so happy.

‘That your boyfriend?' asks Richard, looking in the same direction as me.

‘Yes,' I answer truthfully as I pick a few white petals out of my champagne.

‘Serious?'

‘Um . . .' I look at Fergus and chew my lip thoughtfully. ‘Um . . .'

‘Ah. And the other guy?'

‘What other guy?'

‘Big guy – blonde.' Richard looks towards the house. ‘Inside.'

‘
Tom?
' I look at Richard with astonishment. ‘He's my brother!'

‘Your brother?' Richard smiles and takes a sip of wine. ‘Ah, brother.'

‘Yes – my brother. He's over from America.' I decide to ask a few questions of my own. ‘And what about Joanne?'

‘What about her?' Richard looks at me curiously and then raises his eyebrows and grins. ‘Ah! You think – we're together?'

‘Well, it had crossed my mind,' I say defensively.

‘No,' he laughs. ‘I mean . . . no!'

‘Oh.' I think for a bit. ‘But weren't you staying with her?'

‘No,' he replies, still smiling. ‘Stayed in a motel. Except last night.'

‘Last night!' I repeat in a high-pitched voice. ‘Last night?'

‘Stayed with Rose and Harold,' he explains, the smile sliding off his face. ‘Long night.'

‘Oh,' I grin with relief, ‘so why did you? Stay with Rose, I mean.'

‘She asked,' Richard replies simply, examining his fingernails.

‘Well, that was nice of you.'

‘Yes.'

‘Do you know –' I turn around in my chair until I'm facing Richard fully, and then wait patiently until he makes eye contact ‘– having a conversation with you is like pulling teeth. Is it me? I mean, if you'd rather we not talk, I don't mind. Really.'

‘No!' Richard looks aghast. ‘No – I want to talk! It's not
you
. It's
me
.'

‘You?'

‘Yes – see, I'm not very good with this.' He pauses as he looks around the noisy table. ‘With all this.'

‘Really?' I try to sound astonished at this revelation.

‘Yes.' Richard looks glum. ‘Never have been.'

‘Oh.' I look at his downcast face and am flooded with sympathy. ‘Never mind. As long as I know you
want
to talk, that's fine.'

‘It
is
?'

‘Sure it is,' I smile at him confidently. ‘So tell me then, what do you think of your newfound family?'

‘You know?'

‘I know.'

‘Ah.' Richard looks around the table. ‘Nice lot. Loud.'

‘Overwhelming?'

‘Yes.'

‘I know how you feel,' I say with a smile as I survey them as well, ‘but they really
are
a great bunch. Especially Cam. She's probably my best friend, and she's really good value. When you get to know her. Do you think you will?' I turn to look at him again. ‘Get to know her, that is.'

‘Don't know.' Richard looks across the table at Cam briefly. ‘Maybe.'

‘What about Rose?'

‘Ah.' He focuses on my right eyebrow and then sighs. ‘She wants more than I can give. A lot more.'

‘In what way?' I ask with interest, although I suspect I know exactly what he is referring to. ‘Do you mean like a mother-son relationship?'

‘Yes. Exactly.' Richard slides his gaze down to make eye contact. ‘And it's too late. Not that I have any ill feelings towards her. Not at all. Because if she'd taken me with her as a baby, well, I'd probably have been shoved from pillar to post and been the odd one out when she married again. As it was, I had a great childhood. Really great. Spoilt rotten by two bachelor uncles and a grandmother and grandfather who
couldn't do enough for me. Grew up thinking I was the centre of the universe.'

‘Wow,' I say with surprise, more with regard to his sudden verbosity than to his great childhood.

‘But I'm pleased I've met them.' Richard looks around the table again. ‘
Much
more pleased than I thought I'd be. Just that I've already got a family.'

‘Your childhood was that good, was it?'

‘Idyllic,' he replies emphatically.

‘And I believe you're a doctor now?'

‘Doctor of philosophy,' he says with a laugh. ‘Big difference. Just a glorified teacher.'

I smile at him and he smiles back. I notice his eyes have started that disconcerting twinkle again, and it sends a surge of warm pleasure through me. But the warm pleasure is quickly followed by warm embarrassment and I glance around the tables to see if anyone has noticed what, to me, seems so evident. However, they all seem intent on their various conversations – except, that is, for Dennis. He is leaning forward in his chair with his chin in one hand and observing me with interest. As our eyes meet, he raises his eyebrows and looks from me to Richard and then back again. I return his gaze evenly and we proceed to engage in one of those staring contests which tacitly acknowledge that whoever drops their gaze first is guilty –of something. I know from experience that I usually win.

‘I've just remembered where I know you from!'

I break eye contact with Dennis and look over towards the house, where the elderly gentleman, Nick's boss, is leaning out of the opened French doors. He points at me and grins.

‘Monday night. At the picnic grounds. At around eight o'clock. You were asleep in your car, remember?'

‘Oh.'

‘Knew I'd seen you before,' he says smugly, ‘
knew
it.'

I watch as he shuts the doors again and disappears inside, no doubt pleased he has solved that little mystery. I quickly look up towards Fergus, who's paused in his ongoing story of the rabbits and is looking at me with surprise. I flush and look away.

‘Often fall asleep in your car?' asks Richard curiously.

‘Not often.' I rotate my glass slowly to make the wine slop around inside. ‘And what were we talking about before? Tasmania, that was it. So, are your family all still there?'

‘Grandfather died about fifteen years ago. But my grandmother's still there. Same house. With my uncles.' Richard smiles and warms to his theme. ‘She's ninety-six years old and they're both in their seventies, but she still cooks all their meals, irons their gear, and probably makes their beds!
And
rules the roost!'

‘She sounds great,' I grin at him. ‘I'd love to meet her.'

‘Then do,' Richard says in a low voice as he turns to face me again. ‘Come
with
me.'

‘Pardon?'

‘Sorry.' Richard flushes and fiddles with his glass.

‘
What
did you say?' I ask, stunned.

‘Nothing. Doesn't matter.'

‘Yes it does.'

‘No it doesn't. Actually –' Richard unfolds himself and then looks around the table in general ‘– have to excuse me. People to see before I go.'

Chewing my lip, I watch him drain his wine and then, taking the glass with him, disappear through the French doors. Did he really say he was going?
When
is he going? Surely he wouldn't go without coming out and saying goodbye? Should I
do
something? As soon as Richard gets inside, he is swooped on by Rose. She takes his empty glass and passes it over to Harold for replenishment before starting what looks like an earnest conversation. I
can't
believe they're mother and son.
For starters, Rose barely comes up to his chest and seeing them together just doesn't seem to
fit
. After a few minutes, Rose takes the fresh champagne from Harold and, using her other hand to grasp Richard firmly by the elbow, steers him over to the table where my mother is sitting.

‘Did he say what I think he said?' Cam is leaning towards me across Richard's now vacant chair. ‘Did he?'

‘About him going?' I ask, still staring inside.

‘No –
before
that.'

‘Well –' I drag my eyes away from Richard and look at Cam ‘– that depends. What did you think he said?'

‘Come with me.'

‘That's what I thought too,' I say slowly as I chew my lip some more.

‘So?' Cam slips into the empty chair. ‘What're you going to do?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know.' She looks at me with exasperation. ‘Are you going to or not?'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' I say shortly. ‘Even if he
really
meant it, how can I?'

‘But this is
exactly
what we were talking about on Friday night!' Cam grabs my arm eagerly. ‘This is your chance! You know you like him, so be adventurous! And he likes you too, my god – he was even talking in whole sentences to you! So go on – be spontaneous!'

‘Hell,' I mutter crossly.

‘Hey, Dad!' Nick calls from the French doors. ‘Is it raining out there?'

‘Not at the moment,' replies his father, looking over to the uncovered part of the terrace, ‘but probably soon.'

‘Cool. Then can you guys move yourselves? The celebrant's here so we're going to get started in a tick.'

There is an immediate scraping of chairs and tables and everybody extricates themselves, gathers their drinks, and either moves over to one side of the grotto or disappears inside. David climbs onto a table to straighten up a few stray branches while Diane and Alex rearrange the other furniture to make room for more people.

Nick comes outside with the celebrant in tow and I look across at her curiously. She's a formidable-looking female – all planes and angles and power suited. But when she opens her mouth to talk to David, who is now squatting on top of the table, I suddenly understand why Bronte and Nick were so keen on having her. She has the most melodiously sensual voice I've ever heard. Like molten silver. I listen to her for a few minutes simply because it's a beautiful experience, and then decide to head inside. But, just as I step over the threshold, my elbow is grabbed and I'm steered towards the playpen in the corner.

‘Teresa,' says Fergus, looking up at me intently, ‘what's going on here?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Yes, you do. Who's the blonde fellow you were canoodling earlier?'

‘The
blonde
fellow?' I repeat with bafflement.

‘Yes, the blonde fellow. And see here, can't you at least be honest with me? Because I
know
we've been having our problems. To be sure, we have. Why else were you sitting in your car on Monday night and not here with me? So there's things we're needing to talk about, but you need to be telling me – not leaving me in the lurch and treating me like an eejit.'

‘I'm not! Well, not much. But what about you, anyway?' I point at him accusingly. ‘You made it pretty clear you didn't want to stay here the other night. And you knew I had time off; you could have asked me up to Daylesford with you.'

‘And would you have come?'

‘Well . . .'

‘Exactly.'

‘But there
is
no blonde fellow.' I grasp the one thing I'm absolutely certain about. ‘You've got it all wrong. But I can't talk now, really I can't. I'll explain it all later.'

‘Ah.' Fergus sets his mouth and looks away. ‘If that's the way you're wanting it.'

‘No, it's not,' I say earnestly, ‘you don't understand!'

‘Actually, I'm thinking I do.' Fergus looks at me expressionlessly for a second and then, just as I open my mouth again, shakes his head and walks quickly away towards the lounge-room. I watch him go and sigh. I suppose it's pretty ironic that it looks like I'm going to get dumped for all the right reasons, but for the wrong guy. I should go after him and try to explain – but I'll do that later.