Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  I thought what she said made a lot of sense. Finally, here was something I could understand.

  “Did you know that Halloween is really a Pagan celebration of the dead?” she asked me.

  Of course I didn’t. I thought Halloween was just an excuse for trick or treating.

  “The Pagans call it Samhain, which is the Celtic New Year. It’s the time to celebrate our ancestors and our dead. We believe it’s a time when our mortal world and the spirit world are close and we can talk with the dead.”

  Choice, they even talk to the dead. I still had so many questions to ask. “How do they do that?”

  “I think we’ll leave that for another day. I can feel your mum’s negative energy from here.”

  I laughed at Clare’s comment. I was starting to feel better already.

  “So, aren’t you going to open your present?” she enquired.

  I’d forgotten about my present, which was still sitting in my lap. Remembering to do the polite thing, I opened the card first. It was made from blue cardboard with a circle cut out of the front. Behind the circle was a picture of blue birds. It looked like a picture frame the way she’d done it.

  After reading the card as fast as I could without being rude, I tore open the wrapper. I remembered too late that I should’ve been more careful so I could keep the paper for another time like Clare always does. Inside the paper was an autograph book and a small jewellery box. Tops! Jewellery boxes usually meant something good.

  I wasn’t disappointed. Inside the box was a silver signet ring with a tiny blue stone in the corner. It even had my initials engraved on it. “Thanks heaps.” I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.

  “Try it on.” she removed the ring from the box and slipped it on to my middle finger. It was a little bit loose, but not so loose it would fall off. “Here,” she said, “one more thing.” She unfastened her pendant and refastened it around my neck.

  Was she for real? I couldn’t believe she was giving me her pentacle. “Wow! Thanks,” I said in disbelief. Then, for a stupid second, I wondered if instead of accepting Clare’s gift, I shouldn’t be protesting. I didn’t think she was just being polite, but I thought I should check. “I mean, thanks, but I can’t take this, it’s yours.” Even though my conscience said it was the right thing to say, I tried not to sound too convincing, in case she changed her mind.

  Luckily for me, she did no such thing. “Not any more, I want you to have it. Just remember what the points mean and you’ll always know what a beautiful thing it is to live on this Earth. Here, I’ll write it in your autograph book, so you won’t forget.” She turned to the second last page of the book and drew a five-pointed star. Next to each point she wrote the words; earth, air, fire, water and spirit. Then, underneath the star, she scribbled a note, which I couldn’t read from where I was sitting.

  After filling both pages, she closed the book and stood up. “Hopefully one day you’ll understand the magic of the pentacle a bit better. When you do, you’ll realise that you’re actually a spirit having a human experience, not a human having a spiritual one.”

  Saying thanks sounded inadequate, but I couldn’t think of a better way to describe what I felt, so I said it again anyway.

  “You’re very welcome, Jenny. It’s nice to have such an appreciative audience.”

  She handed me the autograph book and walked inside. I opened it up and looked at what she’d written. She’d scrawled what looked like a poem in tiny letters.

  “Bide the Wiccan laws, we must,

  In perfect love and perfect trust.

  Heed the flowers, bush and tree

  By the Lady blessed you’ll be.

  Where the rippling waters go,

  Cast a stone and truth you'll know.

  Merry meet and merry part,

  Bright the cheeks and warm the heart.

  Mind the threefold law you should,

  Three times bad and three times good.

  These eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill;

  And harm ye none, do what ye will.”

  I didn’t know what the poem meant, but it sounded nice and mysterious. When I had the chance, I would ask Clare to explain it to me, but not today.

  I got up and followed Clare inside. “Look what I got from Clare,” I showed Mum my signet ring and autograph book.

  “Aren’t you a lucky girl?”

  “And this too,” I held up my new pentacle with pride.

  “Mmm, that’s lovely.” She turned back to the lolly faces she was making on Milk Arrowroot biscuits.

  I was glad she didn’t know what the pentacle was. It was my secret and I didn’t really feel like sharing it with anyone else.

  Chapter 38

  Friday, 13 December 1968

  Stephen stumbled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His hair stuck up in every direction giving him the appearance of a frightened, but comical cartoon character. Had his face been smeared with dirt, together with his wild hairstyle, he would have looked not unlike Coyote following one of his mishaps, with the contents of his latest ACME creation exploded in his face, but no visible signs of injury. “Bet you’ll be glad when today’s over,” he mumbled, oblivious to the caricature he was portraying.

  Maggie looked up distractedly. “Huh?”

  “I was just saying that I bet you’re happy today’s your last day of school.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I am. I’m looking forward to it, in fact. Have you seen my car keys?”

  “Nuh, ask Joe, he might know.”

  “Smart arse.”

  Jane entered the kitchen looking remarkably fresh compared to Stephen. “Who’s Joe?”

  “Joe Fanatomy,” volunteered Stephen, incurring a look of caution from Maggie that said she had no time for games.

  “Don’t ask; it’s a long story.” Maggie lifted Stephen’s jacket off the bench top and exposed the missing key bunch. She threw him the offending jacket and jingled her keys accusingly in front of his face. “Thanks, Stevie boy,” she teased, in a better mood for having found her keys and knowing how much he hated being called by that name. “I’m off. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “I probably won’t be here,” he replied.

  “Why not?” Maggie stopped walking and turned around. “Where are you going?”

  “Me and Jane are going to a dance at the Town Hall with Mark and Rebecca, remember?”

  “You mean Jane and I are going to a dance?” Maggie corrected. She recalled having heard something about a dance. Apparently it was an underground dance, whatever that meant. Judging from the venue, it was a term that was definitely not intended to be taken literally, so she assumed that it must have meant that the dance was unauthorised. Where does one get authorisation from to stage a dance, she wondered. She gave up trying to make sense of what it all meant and conceded that she should have paid more attention to what he had told her earlier. He had been raving about it for days, but she failed to take much notice.

  Rather than let on to Stephen that she had not been as attentive as she should have been, she tried hard to recall some of the details. “Oh yes. I remember; it’s the one where that band, UFO, is playing.”

  Stephen looked at Jane and they both laughed. “Have a listen to my groovy mum will you?” he mocked. Then to Maggie, “Um…I think you mean UBU.”

  “I was close,” she said, running too late for school to have the decency to look embarrassed. Then, just to prove she had paid a little attention to what her son had been saying, she added, “that other band that you like is also playing. Taman Shud, right?”

  “She makes a quick recovery,” Jane said to Stephen and they both laughed again.

  “That’s right,” applauded Stephen. “And The ID will be playing too.”

  “I knew that,” Maggie called from down the hall. “Oh, and make sure you don’t wake us when you get home. And remember to lock the door when you get in. Last week when you got home from the ball, you forgot to.”

/>   Maggie unlocked the old Morris Minor – or Morrie, as it was affectionately known – and threw her lunch and handbag onto the passenger’s side. Only a couple more days and Peter would have his new car. She would get the Premier and Morrie would go to Stephen. Just as well there was room out front to park a second car. Probably three if need be. Peter usually parked in the garage, but sometimes, if he needed to wash the car, or had to go out again later, he parked out front. Maggie assessed the width of their front yard and decided three might be a tight fit. She wasn’t concerned. They could always park in front of the Stefanidis’ if they ran out of space. Neither Mr nor Mrs Stepfanidis drove, so they wouldn’t mind.

  At the thought of the Stefanadis, Maggie made a mental note to go over and thank them for the latest basket of vegetables. She didn’t get home until late yesterday and they were waiting for her when she got in. She assumed they must have given them to Stephen, because they never ventured over themselves, they always passed the goods over the side fence.

  About once a week they donated a basket of home grown vegetables from their garden to the Thompson residence. Maggie was certain that they knew her routine well. They obviously waited for her to appear in the back yard as she often did after work. Never before she had finished her first cup of tea, but sometime shortly afterwards, the round, grinning face of Mr Stefanadis would pop up over the fence with his usual greeting. “Beauteful day, yes? You like some vegetables, yes?” Then before Maggie could respond, he would hand her a basket of vegetables. “I haff some more for you next week, yes? Goodbye, you drink some more tea now.” It was the same every week. They had been neighbours for as long as Maggie had lived there, and the conversation rarely progressed beyond the giving of vegetables. Sometimes Maggie would spot them out front tending their gardens and stop for a chat, but in all the years since immigrating to Australia, their English had never yet surpassed a few phrases, so the conversations were always short.

  She waved to her other neighbour Jan, who was returning home from a walk with Elvis, swung the car into a U-turn and took off up the street, leaving a trail of blue smoke behind her. The smoke was getting worse, she thought. It was barely a waft a month ago. Peter said it was nothing to worry about; Morrie would go for ages yet. She hoped he was right and she wasn’t handing Stephen a dog. Technically, the car never missed a beat, but it was certainly starting to look – and smell – worse for wear.

  There were days when Maggie felt as old and worn out as Morrie. Today was not one of them, however. As the blue smoke dissipated, the stress of racing around getting ready for her last day of term went with it. Maggie was not surprised to find herself in a good mood and looking forward to the day. She had always loved the end of school year. It reminded her of when she was a kid, the unmistakable smell of summer fresh in the air, the long, hot days, jumping from a rope into the creek or riding a bike to the lake to spend endless hours dive-bombing from the jetty or roasting in the sun. Even the sweltering nights spent tossing and turning, unable to sleep from the heat and the mosquitos. She loved them too.

  As she had done countless times before, Maggie reflected back on her childhood with a sense of nostalgia and sadness. Had anyone told her as a child that summer would always belong to her childhood, she never would have believed it. As an adult, she could see that it was the case. Never again would she walk home from school, smelling the familiar scent of the bush and feel the sun warming her sunburned nose. The growing sense of excitement as the long summer weeks stretched out before her would never return. She wished she had known that then. She would have squeezed every last ounce of summer out of the days before the metamorphosis took place and the summer of her childhood became the season she now recognised.

  At least it wasn’t gone entirely. The subtlest of things could take her back with no effort at all. The first hot day of spring, the delightful smell of a bush fire, a southerly storm, or – as was currently the case – the last day of school. The day was going to be a hot one, too. At eight thirty in the morning the temperature was already through the roof. It was fitting, thought Maggie. She couldn’t explain why she thought so, other than to suggest that the heat was integral to the summer of her childhood; a time when she never would have believed the world could be any different.

  There was no doubt that she was enjoying her life as an adult, but with the reminiscent smell of summer in the air and a flutter of excitement building at the prospect of the weeks to come – or as a result of past memories perhaps – she longed to see the world through the eyes of a child again. Today was not the first time she had yearned for such a thing. She often wished she could visit that place again.

  Only next time, she wanted Peter by her side.

  ***

  The small bubble of excitement gurgling in Maggie’s belly that morning had grown as the day progressed. Despite spending the day cleaning up and taking down the Christmas decorations that the kids had spent painstaking hours creating, her entire class had been in a wonderfully infectious mood all day. By the end of the day, the classroom was looking perversely naked, but the kids, on the other hand, looked delightfully pleased with their Christmas spoils. The green and red decorations made from toilet rolls, crumpled paper and crayons would no doubt occupy a place of pride on the walls and trees of their homes for the next couple of weeks. And they should too, thought Maggie. The kids had put a lot of effort and time into their work. She hoped their mums and dads cherished them as much as they did. For the lucky few whose parents treasured them enough, the decorations would be put in a safe place for next Christmas…and the next one after that…so that in time the first glimpse of the fading and tattered decorations would be enough to take them back to a carefree summer, a long time ago.

  Maggie reassured her colleagues that she would see them at the Christmas Party the next evening and bade them farewell. She felt a bit like Scrooge waving goodbye knowing that they were all off to the pub for celebratory drinks, but she had already had a few glasses of champagne too many in the staff room at lunch time and her head was still swimming. Besides, she wanted to get some groceries before the shops shut. Peter had promised her that he would take her out to the new Chinese restaurant in Kensington for dinner that night, so she didn’t have much time. She had only eaten Chinese a couple of times before but she had loved the exotic taste of the oriental dishes so much that she made Peter promise to take her out again. The last time had been about six months ago. Then, only yesterday, Peter suggested that eating out might be a nice way to kick-start their summer holidays.

  Lots of time off was one of the few advantages that came with a career in education. Even though Peter had to return to work a week earlier than Maggie so that he could prepare his lectures for the new term, they had until early February before that had to happen.

  Maggie could not believe how fast the year had flown. It was almost 1969. Before she knew it, it would be a new decade and the kids would be all grown up. A smile drifted across her face at the thought of the kids. It was true that Michelle and Stephen were nearly adults, but, if Maggie’s suspicions were correct, there just might be a new family member to celebrate with them next Christmas. Maggie was almost a month overdue. By now, she was certain that she was pregnant. It was getting increasingly difficult not to tell Peter her news, but she had made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t say a word until it had been confirmed by a doctor. She even considered going next week, but knew it would be too early to tell. She decided if her period hadn’t arrived by the time they returned from Bellbird Cottage, she would definitely see her doctor then.

  Maggie remembered that she had a list of things to buy that she needed to take to the cottage. She steered the car with one hand and dug through her handbag with the other. She tipped the contents of her bag out on the seat, but couldn’t find the list. She swore. That meant she had to go via the house to get it, so she took the next right hand turn and swung the car around. The turnoff she needed was some hundred metres back the other
way. She accelerated, looked at the watch on her wrist, and slowed down a little. Getting off early from work meant that she still had plenty of time to do all the things she needed to do before getting ready for dinner.

  She spotted Peter's car parked out the front and smiled. He must have finished work early too. He said he would try. Jane’s car, which had been parked out front that morning, was gone. It was too early for the dance, so she figured they must be at Mark’s or someplace else, but not Jane’s. She got the impression that Jane’s parents were not too keen on the idea of her bringing a young man home, because she never seemed to invite Stephen back to her place. They either went somewhere else or she went home alone. No doubt her parents thought she had spent the night at a girlfriend’s place instead of with Stephen. She also doubted that they knew their daughter had more than likely spent the day bumming around in an empty house with her boyfriend. Maggie couldn’t work out what all the fuss was about. She understood the need for young people to be alone and accepted that it was a normal part of growing up.

  The commanding voice of Janice Joplin greeted Maggie as she pulled her car in behind Peter’s. The volume increased as soon she turned off the ignition and she immediately began to tap her fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat. Peter loved to listen to his music loud, but he rarely got the chance. She was glad that today was one of those rare occasions that he was able to.

  Besides, the music matched her mood, She felt like dancing.

  Maggie reached onto the floor to pick up the remaining contents of her handbag. As she did so, she remembered something and yanked on the glove box door. Inside was a folded piece of paper with her handwriting scrawled in a list down one side. Her shopping list; she hadn’t forgotten it after all. She had shoved it in there that morning when she was running late for school and never gave it another thought. Maggie laughed. She really must start paying more attention to the little things.