Those Faraday Girls

by Monica McInerney

  ‘Why do I feel like it was me who was in there having the baby?’ Miranda sighed as she leaned against the hospital wall.

  ‘Because you did more shouting than Clementine,’ her father said.

  ‘Someone had to. They shouldn’t have been so slow with the gas.’

  Juliet returned from the cafeteria with a tray of tea and a plate of biscuits. ‘There’s nothing left but these. Will they do?’

  Eliza picked one up. ‘They’re a bit bendy.’

  ‘I know, sorry. If I’d known it was going to happen today, I’d have organised a picnic basket or something.’ She wasn’t joking.

  ‘How inconsiderate of Clementine to deliver two weeks early,’ Miranda said.

  She had taken everyone by surprise, the hospital especially, when she arrived on her own, white-faced and sweating, complaining of pains. An examination in the emergency room showed she was well into labour. Her contractions were only five minutes apart. She was lucky she got there when she did.

  Clementine had rung Juliet (in the café), who rang Miranda (in the pharmacy), who rang Eliza (who’d just arrived home), who left a message in block letters pinned on the front door for Sadie, who was out shopping. Miranda, Juliet and Eliza each then rang their father at work. He moved so quickly he was at the hospital before any of them.

  The early admission proved a minor false alarm. Clementine’s labour stopped, then started, then came in earnest. Unbeknownst to each, Clementine had asked all of her sisters to be in the delivery room with her. Sadie still hadn’t arrived, but the other three were more than willing to help. There was a tense moment when the midwife and then finally the doctor insisted there was room for only one and they’d better hurry up and decide who it was going to be before all three of them were asked to leave. They drew straws. Miranda won.

  Outside the delivery suite, Juliet, Eliza and Leo heard more roars from Miranda than Clementine. It was Miranda who emerged from the delivery room to announce it was a girl and to tell them Clementine was fine. Then they’d all been allowed in, to see Clementine holding the tiny white-wrapped bundle and looking no more exhausted than if she had strolled in from a walk in the Botanic Gardens.

  ‘She is amazing.’ Leo joined his daughters in the waiting area. He had been in with Clementine and baby Maggie for the past fifteen minutes. His hair was standing on end, his clothes were rumpled, his smile stretched across his face. ‘What a clever, clever girl.’

  ‘To turn an ordinary old father of five into a grandfather in one big push,’ Miranda said.

  ‘Your mother should have been here.’

  ‘If our mother had been here, Clementine wouldn’t have been in there,’ Miranda replied. ‘She’d never have let this happen, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘And you know what I meant. She’d have loved a grandchild.’

  The girls didn’t answer. It was how their father had expressed his emotions since their mother had died. If a meal was particularly wonderful, he would say, ‘Your mother would have enjoyed this.’ Beautiful countryside: ‘Your mother loved this kind of scenery.’ He used it for negative comments as well: ‘Your mother would have hated to see you wearing clothes like that.’

  ‘Clementine’s chosen the name,’ Leo announced.

  That stopped their cups of tea in mid-sip. ‘Just like that? Without consultation?’ Miranda was outraged.

  ‘She wants you to guess it.’

  The possible name had been a source of constant discussion in the Faraday house since Clementine had announced she was pregnant.

  ‘Is it a song?’ Juliet asked. ‘A book character? Like Mum did with us?’

  It mattered very much to them all that it was. Their names were a daily reminder of their mother. She had chosen them from a long list of her favourite songs and fictional heroines. They each had a card she had written on their baptism day, with just a few lines explaining why she had picked their name and what it meant to her. Juliet had been named after Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Miranda’s name was also from Shakespeare, Prospero’s daughter in The Tempest. Clementine’s was from the song ‘Oh My Darling, Clementine’. Eliza owed her name to Miss Doolittle, the heroine of Pygmalion. Sadie’s name came from a short story called ‘Rain’ by W. Somerset Maugham, Tessa’s favourite writer. Sadie had imagined her fictional namesake to be a wonderful, romantic heroine and had been very upset to learn the truth. The fictional Sadie was a prostitute. She’d come to Leo in tears. Miranda had snatched the book from her and read it too, in gales of laughter. ‘Mum obviously had big plans for you.’

  Their middle names were far more ordinary. Leo had been in charge of them. All saints’ names, a nod to his Catholic upbringing: Teresa, Anne, Catherine, Mary and Agnes. He had written a note on each card too, with a line or two about that saint’s life.

  He gazed at his daughters, all trying to guess the name of Clementine’s baby. ‘I’ll give you a clue. It’s a song. Two songs, in fact.’

  They thought of singers currently in the charts. Blondie, Amii Stewart, Gloria Gaynor. A shake of the head from their father to each one.

  ‘Give up?’

  Three nods.

  ‘Her name is Maggie Tessa Faraday. From two songs, “Maggie’s Farm”, and that Irish ballad your mother loved.’

  ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ Juliet said.

  ‘I hate both songs. I’ll give it a trial run. If I’m not happy after a month, I’ll give her a name myself,’ Miranda said.

  ‘What would you call her then?’ Eliza asked.

  ‘Boo, because she gave us such a surprise.’

  Juliet turned to Leo. ‘Should we let David know?’

  ‘Clementine wants to,’ Leo said. ‘In her own time.’

  David had moved to the mainland five weeks earlier. The formalities had been worked out months before. His name on the birth certificate. Agreed access. Clementine had insisted she didn’t want financial assistance from him yet.

  ‘It’s not about the money. We’ll manage.’ It was Clementine’s answer to everything at the moment. ‘I think it’s better this way. No resentment on David’s part. When he’s earning money we’re going to talk about it again.’

  Leo had shaken his head in admiration. ‘You’re some stuff, Clementine Faraday.’

  ‘Clementine’s uterus is contracting even now,’ Miranda said in a conversational tone, as she browsed through a booklet the midwife had left with them.

  ‘Miranda, please.’ Leo looked skywards. ‘One son. Couldn’t I have been given just one son? Or even a grandson?’ They ignored him. They’d heard it all before.

  The maternity unit door flew open. It was Sadie. ‘Did I miss it? Has she had it?’

  ‘A girl. A healthy, beautiful girl.’

  Sadie had a stormy expression on her face. ‘Couldn’t she have waited until I was here too? How come I had to miss out?’

  ‘Only Miranda was allowed in,’ Eliza said. ‘There were too many of us as it was. We drew straws.’

  ‘You can go in and see her now, though,’ Juliet said.

  ‘It’s not the same.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Sadie,’ Miranda said with a laugh, ‘she could hardly hold on until you turned up.’

  ‘She said she wanted me to be there when the baby was born.’

  ‘She said that to all of us. The baby had other ideas.’

  ‘Everything’s spoilt now.’

  ‘Stop that, Sadie,’ Juliet said.

  ‘It is. The whole idea was we were all going to be here to welcome the baby into the world. And I wasn’t. So it’s going to be cursed now.’

  ‘The only person who is going to be cursed is you if you keep this up,’ Miranda snapped. ‘Stop it right now. Get that ridiculous sulky expression off your face and go in and say hello to your sister and your niece.’

  Juliet stood up. ‘It doesn’t matter that you weren’t here for the exact moment, Sadie, really. I told you, only Miranda was with her, and Clementine was pretty busy. I’m not sure she would
have noticed if her entire class from school was here.’

  Sadie hesitated.

  ‘In you go,’ Leo said.

  Sadie did as she was told. Fifteen minutes later she came back out. Her face had changed, her expression soft where there had been scowls. ‘She’s beautiful.’

  ‘She is,’ Leo agreed.

  ‘And she’s all ours.’

  ‘Clementine’s,’ Juliet said.

  ‘Ours,’ Sadie said firmly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The pram moved forward three inches, back three inches and then suddenly shot six feet across the kitchen floor and slammed into the fridge.

  ‘Not quite there yet, Dad, I think,’ Clementine said.

  ‘It was working before. Maybe it needs the weight of a baby in it. Would you —’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’ll try the pumpkin again.’ He tied a small pumpkin to a bigger pumpkin and wrapped the lot in one of Maggie’s blankets. He had just settled it into the pram when the door opened.

  It was Miranda. She went immediately over to the pram. ‘Hello, little Maggie,’ she cooed. She didn’t react at the sight of two pumpkins instead of her six-month-old niece. ‘And who is the sweetest baby in all of Tasmania? Yes, you are. And who is your favourite aunt? Good girl.’ She straightened up. ‘Clem, I really think you better pull back a bit on the pureed carrots. She’s looking a bit orange these days.’

  ‘Watch this.’ Leo pressed the lever again. The pram shuddered forward, rocked from side to side, then stopped.

  ‘That’s terrific, Dad. You’re going for that earth-tremor effect, I see.’

  ‘Dad, really. I’m happy to push her.’

  ‘It’ll free you up to study or to do other things, though, if the pram moves on its own.’

  ‘And the poor child will grow up thinking she lives in a haunted house,’ Miranda said.

  Eliza came in, looked at the pumpkins and frowned.

  ‘My friend Lynetta was in the pharmacy today,’ Miranda announced.

  ‘Lynetta who used to be called Lyn until she moved to Melbourne and became glamorous?’ Eliza asked.

  ‘She was glamorous beforehand; she just hadn’t reached her potential. She’s started training to be a flight attendant.’

  ‘I thought she was going to be a film star.’

  ‘She was. But now she’s going to be a flight attendant,’ Miranda said. ‘She thought I should give it a try too. They’re calling for new applicants in a few months.’

  Clementine looked up from putting Maggie back in the pram. Beside her, Leo was holding the two pumpkins as though they were the real baby. ‘You wouldn’t leave us yet, Miranda, would you?’ Clementine said.

  Sadie walked into the kitchen. ‘Is Miranda leaving? Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. Break this fragile family bond? Shatter our perfect harmony? How could I do it?’

  From the pram, Maggie started to cry, her waving hands visible over the edge.

  ‘It’s all right, Maggie,’ Miranda shouted over the noise. ‘I won’t go anywhere until I have seen you off on your first day of school, I promise.’

  Maggie’s cry turned into a high-pitched wail.

  Eliza put her hands over her ears. ‘You must be doing something wrong, Clementine. Feeding her too much or not feeding her enough.’

  ‘She’s a baby, Eliza,’ Clementine snapped. ‘Babies cry.’

  ‘And I’m an adult, and adults need to sleep. It’s not just you who wakes up in the middle of the night, every night, you know.’

  Maggie wailed again, ignoring Clementine’s attempts to soothe her.

  Miranda winced. ‘Eliza’s right, Clemmie. Much as I love that adorable child of ours, if she doesn’t start putting a cork in it, I’m going to ring David and tell him you and Maggie are coming to Melbourne to live with him.’

  ‘I try to keep her quiet. She’s just got a temper on her.’

  ‘A temper? She’s only six months old. She can’t even see yet.’

  ‘You’re thinking of kittens,’ Leo said. He was back tinkering with the pram’s wheels.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s kittens who can’t see when they’re first born. Babies can see straightaway. Fuzzy shapes for a start, but they recognise everyone: voices, images, features.’

  ‘Dad, can you keep out of this? Unless you’re planning on building Clementine a soundproofed room.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Leo said, reaching for his notebook.

  Juliet took the opportunity to take a load of washing out to the clothesline at the end of the garden. It was the quietest spot to be found these days. And the cleanest. The amount of noise Maggie made had been the first big surprise after Clementine brought her home from the hospital. The mess had been the second. As for the extra washing… how could so small a baby go through so many clothes? Not to mention take up so much room. Sterilisers, nappy-soaking buckets, clothes racks, prams, bassinettes, bouncers…

  Leo was to blame as well. Barely a day went by without him arriving home with a new piece of labour-saving equipment or brain-stimulating toy. The previous night Juliet had come in to the living room to find pieces of brightly coloured plastic strewn all over the carpet. It looked like there’d been an explosion. Leo was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the chaos, attempting to put whatever it was originally back together. He’d been trying to make a few modifications, he told them.

  ‘It was a plastic dragon,’ Miranda had said, exasperated. ‘A mythical beast. How can you make modifications to something that doesn’t exist?’

  Juliet finished pegging up the clothes. She really should go back in and put on another load. She heard a wail from Maggie. On second thoughts, perhaps she would stay outside a little longer.

  If Leo had wanted a full house for the unveiling of his latest project, three weeks after his attempt at the self-rocking pram, he’d chosen his time badly. Clementine and Maggie were at a friend’s house, Sadie and Eliza both had late lectures, Juliet was working overtime and Miranda was meeting a friend. They had all written their whereabouts up on the noticeboard. Not that Leo had looked at it. As Miranda had said, he clearly preferred to think of it as the ‘Not-noticeboard’.

  Eliza was first home.

  ‘At last,’ Leo said, springing out of the armchair in the sitting room.

  ‘Dad, you frightened me! What on earth are you doing hiding there like that?’

  ‘I’m not hiding. I’m waiting for all of you,’ he said, following her into the kitchen in his eagerness. ‘It’s a landmark day. Where are the others?’

  Eliza glanced at the noticeboard and gave him a quick rundown of where her sisters were.

  ‘Never mind. I’ll just have to show them all later. You get to be the first, Eliza. Come and take a look.’

  Eliza calmly followed him down the hallway, used to these sorts of occasions.

  Leo spoke over his shoulder. ‘I got the idea from one of those music magazines Sadie reads. Or is it you who reads them? Fascinating stuff, I have to say. The names of some of the bands these days – Split Enz, Australian Crawl, Adam and the Ants! How do they think of them?’

  They stopped outside the closed door of Clementine and Maggie’s room.

  ‘As I mentioned, it’s not entirely my own idea,’ Leo said, beaming at her. ‘But I bet those rock stars never imagined it being used for something like this!’ He threw open the door. ‘Ta-dah!’

  All four walls were covered with empty egg cartons. Hundreds of them. Grey knobbly material all over the previously pale yellow walls. It looked like a set from a science-fiction film.

  ‘Great, Dad,’ Eliza said. ‘You’ve set up an egg factory in Clementine’s room.’

  He ignored her. ‘It took me all day. I’ve been collecting the cartons for weeks from everywhere I could think of.’

  ‘And no one worried about your mental health?’

  ‘I told them all what I was going to do with them.’

  ‘If
you don’t mind me asking, what have you done with them?’

  ‘You haven’t guessed? It’s soundproofing. So we can all start sleeping through the night. I know it looks a bit dull at the moment, but we can give it all a lick of paint, and we’ll hardly notice them.’

  ‘Did you ask Clementine if she minded you sticking egg cartons all over her walls?’

  ‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

  It certainly will be, Eliza thought. She took pity on him, noting his excited face. ‘Well done, Dad.’

  He was oblivious. He’d noticed a carton working loose on the wall near the window and was already putting up the ladder.

  Eliza went into the room she shared with Sadie, shutting the door. She changed out of her tracksuit, unpacked her rucksack and tidied away her study notes.

  As she had to do every day, she took out a broom and pushed all of Sadie’s belongings back on to her side of the room. The line painted down the centre of the room was faded but as far as Eliza was concerned it was still in operation. Their father had painted it nearly six years earlier, when she had protested that she couldn’t share with Sadie another day. ‘We’re like Jack Sprat and his wife. She can’t stay tidy and I hate being messy.’

  Leo came up with the idea of the line down the middle of the room instead. It worked immediately. Eliza loved it, making a ritual each evening of pushing any of Sadie’s belongings over the line. Sadie hated it then and still hated it, but she made no attempt to be any tidier.

  As she finished neatening the cover on her bed, Eliza realised that was one more thing to look forward to. Her own space. Mark had made vague mentions of them sharing a house when she moved to Melbourne but Eliza had told him she would rather not. It would be expensive, but she was determined to begin their business lives as separate people. She was also longing for her own place, no matter how small. The idea of her own kitchen and bathroom filled her with a strange excitement. No tripping over other people’s clothes and boots, or finishing dishes only to discover cups hidden behind sofas and underneath beds. Clean floors staying clean. All that, and working with Mark, every day. It would be a kind of heaven.