I couldn’t believe it. I finally got a bike, and this year of all years. I swore I would be cranky with my parents forever, but how could I now, when they got me the very thing I’ve always wanted? I couldn’t wait to tell Tom. I wonder what he got for his birthday.
Remembering my manners, I said thank you to Mum and Dad and gave them both a kiss.
“Why don’t you take it for a ride,” Dad suggested.
“Don’t go too far,” said Mum, “you haven’t had breakfast yet.”
How typical of Mum to say something like that. What difference did it make that I hadn’t had breakfast yet?
I rode up to Tom’s place to wish him a happy birthday. I parked my bike in their driveway and knocked on the door. Jim answered the door in his pyjamas.
“G’day, Jenny. You’re bright and early.”
“Am I, what time is it?”
Jim turned to look at the clock behind him. “Eight forty five.”
I was in such a hurry to show Tom my bike that I forgot to check what time it was. “Sorry, I just wanted to show Tom what I got for my birthday.”
“Oh yeah, it’s your birthday today too. I almost forgot. Happy birthday.”
He opened the door to let me in. “So, which one of you is the oldest?”
“I am,” I answered, “but only by an hour.”
“Mnh-mnh,” Tom disagreed, “less than an hour.”
I often rip Tom off about me being older. I tell him that I should be in charge because I’m the oldest. It’s strange that we were born in the same hospital and turned out to be friends even though our parents didn’t know each other at the time. Mrs Simmons remembers hearing about a big accident and how a lady was driven to hospital in a police car and delivered her baby in the emergency room, but she didn’t know Mum at the time. It wasn’t until they moved into our street that she found out who she was.
Tom was sitting on the floor hooking up an Atari machine to his television. “Look what I got,” he said excitedly. “It’s a Super Pong Pro-Am Ten.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Happy birthday by the way,” he added. “What did you get?”
“You’ll never guess.” Then, before he could even begin to guess, I blurted, “a new pushbike”.
“Holy cow, you finally got one!”
He got up and walked outside to have a look. “She’s a beauty.”
His comment made me think about what I’d said when I saw it for the first time and I laughed.
“What?” he asked self-consciously.
“Nothing,” I giggled.
Nobody else thought what he said was funny, but they didn’t realise that I’d said the same dumb thing. Things like that always happen to Tom and me.
“You must be thankful, now you don’t have to double me anymore.”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
I didn’t really mind either, but I had to admit it was way cool to have my own bike.
We walked back inside where it was my turn to be impressed. I know nothing about Ataris, but I tried to sound enthusiastic for Tom’s benefit. “What does it do?”
“It’s got ten games on it and you can set it for hard or easy. That way you can play too,” he said, making fun of me. “We can play against each other, but we have to set it to easy or hard; we can’t do both at the same time.”
“What sort of games does it play?”
“Everything.”
As if I knew what everything was. “Like?”
“Like Pong and Super Pong, Basketball, Catch, and Handball.”
Like that cleared things up. I still had no idea what he was talking about.
“It’s from Jim too, he helped pay for it.” Tom beamed at his big brother.
“I better go.” I got up from the lounge and tried hard to avoid the Undertaker who chose that moment to walk in the room. Speaking of super pong, I swear he farted as he walked past me. If anyone else noticed his disgusting odour, they never gave any hint as to how bad it was. I thought I was going to puke. I raced to the front door and to the aid of the fresh air. “I told Mum I wouldn’t be late.”
Luckily Tom didn’t notice my speedy exit. “Righto, see ya.”
“Don’t be late for the party,” I instructed.
He didn’t even look up from what he was doing. “I won’t.”
I had a present for Tom, but I was saving it for the party. I got him some clacker-clacks and a mini game of Battleships. Mum paid for them, but they’re really from me. I used to have some clacker-clacks too, but they broke. Mum said she’d given up looking for them, but then she finally found some at Waltons while she was Christmas shopping.
***
Mum was in a flap cleaning the place up and making food for the party. The party didn’t start til one o’clock, so I couldn’t work out what all the fuss was about. Dad was out the back mowing the lawn. The yard smelled nice and fresh.
“Hurry up and have breakfast Jenny, so I can clean up the dishes,” Mum said from the kitchen. She had an apron on over her blue dress, making her look like Alice the housekeeper.
I poured myself some Rice Bubbles “What time are the others getting here?” By the others I meant my aunties, uncles, cousins and grandparents.
“I’m not sure what time Grandma and Pa are coming, but Aunty Audrey won’t be here until one and the others should get here around eleven. Aunty Joanne is bringing her famous gingerbread men and Clare said she would make some chocolate crackles.”
I knew that all my relatives would turn up with tonnes of food; that’s just how our family works. It’s the same after every birthday party and Christmas lunch. There’s always so much food. We’re usually eating leftovers for days. Speaking of food, I hope Mum’s making pigs in blankets; they’re my favourite.
I finished my breakfast and went outside to see if Dad needed a hand setting up the tables. He borrowed some tables and chairs from the secretary of the Worker’s Club, Mr Ridgeway. He said we could keep them until after Christmas. Dad was tying a blue tarp over the washing line, so we’d have some shade to sit under. He cleaned the front half of the shed out so we could set the tables up in there. The flies would still be a problem with the roller door up, but at least the sun would be off the food.
We have an old fridge in the shed where Dad keeps his beer. Mum filled it up with a big bowl of punch and fizzy drink. She also put the trifle in there because it wouldn’t fit in the inside fridge. Dad complained that he had nowhere to put his beer, so Mum made him buy some ice and put it in his Esky to keep it cold.
I helped Dad arrange the tables and chairs and went back inside to see what else needed doing. Tracy and Kate were blowing up balloons with Mum’s Electrolux on reverse. It’s much better than blowing them up with your mouth and almost passing out from head spins. The lounge room was already full of coloured balloons, some of which said happy birthday. Tracy gave me a ball of string and a pair of scissors and told me to tie them into bunches of five.
Once all the balloons were blown up and tied, we shoved them into the corner of the room. It was too early to tie them to the washing line. The heat of the sun would make them pop.
With all the commotion about Shortie, I still hadn’t drawn the donkey for the game. Tracy offered to help, so I went to get the paper Mum got from Mr Jaeger, and to find something to make the tails out of. Mum was getting impatient with me being in the kitchen, so I snatched the almost empty cornflakes box and got out of her way.
Tracy’s a much better drawer than me, so I let her draw the donkey. It started out alright, but she almost ran out of paper, so she had to squeeze the donkey’s bum in. Now the donkey looked deformed. She said it didn’t matter because we’d be blindfolded anyway. I cut out thirteen tails and wrote my name and the name of each person that was coming on them. Then, I remembered I needed two more for Bridget and Kerri-Anne, and since I knew Mum would make me let Brian and Janice play too, I made it four.
In the
end, I had so many names I had to use the Rice Bubbles box as well. The list of names I was using was the same one I made for the invitations and Shortie’s name was still on it. Seeing his name made me feel guilty all over again for having a party. It didn’t seem right to have so much fun so soon after he died.
I tried not to think about Shortie as I continued to get things ready for the party. If I got too sad, Mum would have a cow. She’d say I was being ungrateful and that money doesn’t grow on trees and stuff like that. She always says that money doesn’t grow on trees when I ask for something she can’t afford or if she thinks I’m being wasteful. I could tell by all the party stuff that she’d spent a fair bit, so I tried extra hard to appear grateful.
Chapter 34
Sunday, 1 December 1968
Peter lay in bed, wide awake. He’d been in bed for over an hour, and couldn’t get to sleep. The tension of the day was still with him and he resisted the inclination to wake Maggie. Peter knew that five minutes of having her wrapped in his arms, smelling her hair and skin and having her warmth infuse him with drowsiness was all that it would take; however, the reason for his sleeplessness was such that waking Maggie would have caused him more guilt than he could withstand. It was one thing to be wakeful as a result of the day’s proceedings, but it was another to expect that, given his culpability in the whole affair, Maggie should be called upon to help him.
For the first time ever, Peter was at a total loss as to what to do. On top of the anxiety caused by the disaster unfolding before him, he was angry at himself for not knowing how to handle it. He always knew how to respond when something was wrong. If one of the kids got hurt, it was Peter who remained calm and figured out what to do. When the blokes at work were losing their head over Baxter’s new reforms, it was Peter who calmed them down and got them to think twice before chucking their jobs in. Maggie, who claimed she loved his level-headedness and resourcefulness, even jokingly called him a boy scout. Her own personal boy scout, she would tease; always prepared for the worst, able to fix anything that breaks, and resourceful in ways that would make other boy scouts blush.
Peter wondered what she would call him if she found out about the muddle he’d got himself in. He doubted that she would talk to him at all. Or worse still, he feared that her knowledge of the situation would destroy her trust in him and ruin their bond. Like Maggie, Peter believed in destiny. He shared her view that they were soul mates and that it was their fate to be together. He even believed Maggie’s theory that they had shared past lives together. He wasn’t sure when or as whom and he didn’t claim to possess any knowledge or details to support his belief – nor dreams or theories. He just knew in his heart that it was true. He had known it from the first time he had met her in the Theosophical Society’s book shop. Even the unusual meeting place was not required to support his belief, although he did think it was uncanny. It was not as though he had been waiting for her to enter his life or anything quite so romantic, but rather, from the moment she smiled at him, the fact that they were meant to be together was inexplicably apparent, as was the knowledge that they would stay together always, in this life and beyond.
Peter knew that his unorthodox views set him aside from his colleagues. All who met him, even his closest friends, generally considered his unlikely fascination with the occult and reincarnation odd. This was especially the case given that he was an engineer. If you asked anyone, they would tell you that engineers were serious, matter of fact kind of people, and not at all the type to get mixed up in that airy-fairy kind of stuff. However, Maggie and Peter had a different way of looking at it. They preferred the view that, given Peter’s unconventional interests, engineering was an unlikely career for him to pursue.
His profession, nevertheless, was easy to explain. He had always had an interest in building things and a career in engineering seemed to fit in well with that. Besides, given the lack of professions related to his other interests, engineering was really his only choice. Fortunately, his career had been an interesting and varied one. Peter had experienced many ups and downs in his time as an engineer, but most of his work he looked back on fondly. His involvement in memorable projects like the Sydney to Newcastle tollway, which the kids referred to for many years as the road that Dad built, and his years spent teaching – first on a casual basis and later full-time, were amongst his best.
Until now, that is. It seemed that the issue with Jane, which Peter had naïvely thought was over and done with, was back to haunt him. He should have known better. Why he thought he could involve himself in an affair with one of his students, and not get into strife, was beyond him. He had been foolish to think so, damned foolish, in fact. And now he was paying the price. He wondered for the hundredth time what Jane had in mind. Did she intend to say anything to anyone about what had transpired between them? What if she had already?
Peter dismissed the idea from his mind. Of course she hadn’t said anything yet; Stephen’s demeanour would have given him away if she had. But, what if she did? Then what? How would he respond? Denial might work. But, then again, it might not. It had to be better for Maggie to hear the story from him. But, what if Jane had no intention of spilling the beans and he told Maggie everything? The risk of losing Maggie, and of causing her unnecessary pain, was too great. There was no way Peter could tell his soul mate that he’d almost had an affair on her, or did have an affair, depending on how one defined affair. He certainly did things with Jane that would cause Maggie pain; that much he couldn’t deny. He always thought that their relationship was strong enough to withstand any test, but that was before his betrayal had taken place.
Betrayal? Is that what it was that he’d done, he wondered. Was it really betrayal to almost have sex with another woman? He had said no, after all. Surely that must be worth something. Other blokes did far worse and got away with it. Take Roger for example. He’d cheated on his wife several times and they were still together.
Peter knew that he was kidding himself. He was well aware that regardless of what Roger and other blokes did, what he had done was wrong. He had betrayed Maggie. He wished he could undo what had happened, but he couldn’t. All that was left for him to do now was to face the music, whatever the tune.
Maggie stirred in her sleep. Once again, Peter resisted the urge to bury his face in her neck and wrap her in his arms. He tensed his body as she rolled over and flung her arm across his chest. She snuggled in close to him before falling back to sleep. He felt terrible. He didn’t believe he deserved to have her warm body lying up against his, but he was too frightened to move in case she woke. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t summon the courage to tell Maggie what he had done. Besides, he reasoned, telling her would simply be a selfish way of easing his own conscience. And if that’s all it was, he had no right to cause her pain just so he could get something off his chest, something that she might never find out about otherwise.
There was no easy solution to his problem. As far as Peter was concerned he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. To tell Maggie what had happened was guaranteed to cause her pain and do irreversible damage to their relationship. How could it not? But, on the other hand, if Jane had no intention of sharing their secret with anyone else, then he would have caused all that hurt and damage for nothing. So, the way he figured it, telling her was certain pain, not telling her meant that there was a chance she would be spared the hurt of knowing.
He knew that deep down he was being a coward, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he loved Maggie deeply. His little fling with Jane did not detract from that. Rather, it had reinforced his love for her. Peter also knew that without a doubt, Maggie loved him too, so why destroy something so special for something so meaningless?
Peter ran his hand along Maggie’s arm. He still felt terrible, but at least now he had resolved the dilemma about confessing his sins. He loved her too much to hurt her. The secret he and Jane shared would re
main theirs. He would do everything in his power to make sure that Maggie never found out, which meant that he had to get Jane out of his – and Stephen’s – life for good.
How he would manage such a feat remained to be seen. However, the last thought on Peter's mind as he drifted off into a restless night’s sleep was that he would find a way if it was the last thing he did.
Chapter 35
Wednesday, 4 December 1968
Stephen found his father in the lounge room watching Bewitched. “Where are those pyjamas you said I could borrow?”
Without taking his eyes of the television, Peter answered his son. “They’re in my top drawer. Blue and red striped ones, they should be on the top somewhere, your mum’s just washed them.”
“Thanks.”
Before Stephen had got too far, Peter called him back. “Hey Steve, got a sec?”
Stephen stuck his head around the door. “Yeah, what is it?”
Peter patted the lounge beside him. “Have a seat. I wanted to have a few words with you.”
“Can it wait? I’m supposed to be getting ready for tonight. Jane will be here soon to pick me up.”
Peter looked at his son. “It won’t take a minute, come on.”
Stephen let out a resigned breath. He sat on the lounge beside his father, but stayed perched on the edge as though he might be required to take flight without warning. “Yeah, what’s the matter?” He looked at his dad, barely masking his impatience.
“Well…” having gained his son’s attention, Peter was having difficulty knowing where to start, “…I just wanted to have a little word to you about Jane.”
“What about Jane?” Stephen eyed his dad curiously.
“Um…well, I just wanted to see how you were getting along. You know; find out how serious things were between you.”
“How serious?” Stephen laughed. “We’ve only just met.”
“I know, that’s why I’m asking. You don’t know anything about her yet. I was just making sure you weren’t in over your head.”
The smile on Stephen’s face slipped a little. “What do you mean; in over my head?”
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