The Convent

by Maureen McCarthy

  There is a stand-off for a while, a moment between the three of us that excludes the guys.

  ‘I’m happy to have a boyfriend, Det!’

  ‘Great! Does it mean he has to rule your life?’

  ‘Stephano doesn’t rule my life!’

  ‘No?’

  ‘He is my partner.’

  ‘Jeez, I hate that fucking word!’ Det sneers. ‘Partner.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot,’ Cassie says, ‘you’re just way too cool for a partner, aren’t you? Way too cool.’

  ‘Whoa!’ Det shouts and jumps up from the couch. ‘Implication being that I should have one?’

  ‘It just might be handy in your condition, Det!’

  Det prances around the room laughing as she holds her belly out for everyone to notice.

  ‘Do I look like I care that I don’t have a fucking partner?’

  ‘You might in a month.’

  ‘You know something, Cass?’ Det is coming in for the kill now. ‘I don’t think so. I’m fucking glad I don’t have a partner who insists on dragging me along to his grandparents’ place!’

  ‘Well, good, but—’;

  So it goes on. It never ceases to amaze me how they ever manage to pull back from these arguments. The nastiness is palpable. But, believe it or not, they actually do love each other. Amazing, really. They should be giving classes to world leaders. Meanwhile, there is this dinner to get through.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ I say quietly. ‘I’ve cooked this nice food. Let’s at least try to enjoy eating it.’

  ‘Yes, let’s do that,’ Cassie says.

  ‘Start acting like a real friend, then,’ Det fumes.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Det?’ Cassie says coldly.

  ‘A friend doesn’t pull out at the last moment.’

  For a minute it looks like Cassie is about to storm off, but she is merely turning up the knob a notch or two. Mesmerised, we all watch as she goes to her bag, kneels down, unzips it and pulls out a pile of brochures instead.

  ‘Don’t you dare lecture me about friendship!’ she hisses in a barely controlled whisper, ‘I have been working my bum off for you all week organising your exhibition!’ She throws the brochures down next to Det’s feet. ‘I have been traipsing around the city for weeks getting these into every appropriate venue I can. I have made a million phone calls to all kinds of people. I have personal acceptances to your opening from people from the NGV, and from Extra Blue Galleries, and you and I both know if they come then everyone else will too. Not only that, I have Art Review promising a leading article in the September issue and Flair are giving you top billing for their piece on hot new emerging artists.’

  I only have a vague idea who these people are, but it sounds very impressive.

  Det holds up both hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay,’ she sighs, ‘righto.’

  ‘And all of it unpaid, I might remind you!’

  ‘I know.’ Det shrugs. ‘Thanks.’

  Cassie’s eyes flash furiously around at the rest of us. ‘Not one person in this room would have the first idea about how to organise a proper exhibition. I’m way better than any of the agencies and I’m doing it gratis!’

  ‘Okay!’ Det is still sour. ‘I’m the dick. I admit it. I’m grovelling.’

  ‘Just don’t question my commitment to you or to Peach. I may not be perfect, but …’;

  Det kneels awkwardly on the floor in front of Cassie. She starts bowing and scraping and then tries to lick Cassie’s shoes. Everyone else finds this funny but Cassie doesn’t even smile.

  ‘I swear you are too much sometimes, Det.’

  ‘Listen, I’m on the floor licking your feet. What else do you want from me?

  ‘Oh both of you just shut up! Please,’ I yell.

  There are a few moments of quiet, then Det, still on her knees, looks up. ‘Really, I am sorry,’ she says seriously.

  Casssie gives a tight nod and bends to pick up the brochures.

  ‘Okay, you two chicks!’ Nick shouts. ‘Time for some rocket fuel! We need glasses and more ice.’ He holds up the jug of deep pink liquid, slices of lemon and chopped mint floating on the surface. ‘Where are the glasses, Peaches?’

  ‘Over there.’ I point to the side cabinet and take over more ice in a jug.

  Nick and Dicko pour it into the glasses.

  ‘Is it very strong?’ I ask.

  ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ Nick mutters. ‘Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?’

  ‘What about Det?’ I say, worried. In times past after such a nasty fight Det would make it her business to get completely plastered.

  ‘Bambino special.’ Nick hands Det a separate glass. ‘No rocket fuel in this one, kid, sorry.’

  Det takes the drink, slurps a bit down and grimaces. ‘Did you ever think you’d see the day, Nicko?’

  ‘Never.’ He grins.

  She takes another gulp and pats her stomach. ‘The things I do for you, kid.’

  ‘So where is Stella?’ Dicko wants to know.

  ‘I dunno,’ I say.

  ‘Have you rung her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you going to?’

  ‘Why should I?’ I grumble. ‘She knows tonight is on.’

  I’m totally pissed off with Stella. She volunteered to clean up the room and set the table with flowers. None of it has been done and she’s nowhere to be seen.

  Everyone moves over to the easy chairs with their drinks while I clear the table of newspapers and old letters and half-finished mugs of coffee, and set out cutlery and paper napkins. Then I run back to the messy kitchen and give the huge dish of paella a last stir through.

  ‘Hey, how many more weeks you got, Det?’ Dicko asks, lying back against the back of the couch.

  ‘A few.’

  ‘So it’s still … alive?’ he asks quite seriously.

  ‘Bloody hope so,’ Det replies, and we all start laughing again.

  ‘Can I feel it?’ Nick asks shyly.

  ‘Yeah sure.’ Det smiles and pushes her bulge out.

  He kneels down in front of Det and puts his head close to her round belly. Det takes his hand and places it on one side. His face is still with concentration, eyes closed, and then he breaks into a delighted smile.

  ‘It’s sort of ticking!’ he declares. ‘I can feel it. Is that the heartbeat?’ ‘I dunno. Probably.’

  ‘Shit. It’s really moving now.’ He motions the rest of us over. ‘Come and feel it. It’s starting to go crazy.’

  ‘Get them off me!’ Det laughs.

  ‘It’s going berserk!’ Nick has his hands wrapped around her belly now and his brown eyes are wide with wonder. ‘I reckon he can feel us all out here.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  He looks up at Det seriously. ‘Must be weird. Is it? Like … having it inside you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Det sighs. ‘It is pretty weird.’

  ‘Peach,’ Cassie calls me over excitedly, ‘come and have a feel.’

  But I just laugh and turn back to the kitchen. The paella is ready and in spite of Stella not being around I’m not going to ruin it by waiting any longer.

  After we eat I’m going to have to make a call to the old lady to tell her I’m not coming, and I’m kind of dreading that. But the bewildering truth is that also I find Det’s baby a bit of a freak-out. She still doesn’t talk about it much except in the most abstract way, and I guess I’ve got pretty good at putting it out of my mind too. But it’s there anyway, in the background, a baby. I look around at the six of us and wonder what the future holds for us all. Maybe our tight friendship group is already skidding off the rails and none of us wants to admit it. Cassie made it pretty plain this very morning that her boyfriend comes first.

  And my other best friend is going to be a mother very soon. A mother. I try to imagine what a friendship with Det and a baby will be like, but it’s beyond me. Where will I fit in? Things will never be the same agai
n and that’s for sure.

  We have just settled down at the table when the front door bursts open and Stella comes bounding in, dressed in bright red Indian cotton, her hair massing around her shoulders and down her back like a black cloak. She actually looks fantastic, but I don’t tell her because I’m so pissed off.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I’ve got a car and driver for tomorrow!’ She throws her bag into the corner and slumps down into a spare chair at the table. ‘We’re being picked up at ten tomorrow morning. So be ready.’

  ‘See.’ Cassie looks around at us all triumphantly as though she’s organised the whole thing herself. ‘Not that hard! It’s worked out. I thought it would.’

  ‘So, who?’ I ask, smiling at my sister’s bright, enthusiastic face, glad that I don’t have to make the phone call and disappoint the old lady.

  Stella squares her shoulders and pauses a moment.

  ‘Fluke,’ she says defiantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fluke said he’d drive us.’

  I literally can’t believe I’m hearing this. It has to be a bad dream. Of all the people on this earth!

  ‘Stella, what possessed you?’ Det can see how shocked I am. ‘You know how Peach feels about him.’

  ‘I didn’t ask him,’ Stella says defensively. ‘I met him in the street and one thing led to another. He offered.’

  Everyone at the table turns to me, but I’m beyond words. All I really know is that I’m ready to kill my sister.

  One thing led to another…?

  ‘What exactly led to what, Stella?’ I say through gritted teeth.

  But she just shrugs and smiles as if she is the cleverest person on earth.

  ‘Well, then,’ Det says slowly. I see after the initial shock she is warming to the idea. ‘What do you say, Peach?’

  ‘You told Fluke all about the letter?’ I stare at Stella incredulously.

  ‘No!’ She tries to look apologetic, but having won Det around I see she is actually feeling quite secure. ‘Well, only a little bit.’

  ‘But I’ve broken up with him!’ I wail. ‘Don’t you understand that? I don’t want him to know. It’s nothing to do with him.’

  ‘I know, but—’;

  ‘So what made you think—’;

  ‘Breaking up doesn’t mean you can’t speak to someone,’ she says defensively. ‘Or that he can’t … help out.’

  ‘Stella!’

  ‘No one is suggesting you get back with him!’ Cassie contributes.

  ‘And he offered!’ Dicko says with a laugh.

  ‘Hey, cool it,’ Nick cuts in. ‘Have some respect. Remember the baby.’

  Like complete idiots we all stop and frown and look around the room as if a baby is suddenly going to appear from under the table or behind the door.

  ‘What are you on about?’ Det says, and then as soon as she says it, she realises what he means and bursts out laughing. She picks up a cushion and chucks it hard at his head. ‘You are such a dick!’

  My fury breaks and I have a few moments of thinking that I love them all, which is a bit strange seeing as I still very much want to kill Stella.

  ‘You don’t have to talk to him,’ Stella whispers through a mouthful of food a few minutes later, ‘he told me that.’

  ‘He said what?’

  ‘He said, Tell Peach I won’t talk to her if she doesn’t want me to.’

  I sigh and pick up my fork again.

  ‘You and Det can sit in the back,’ Stella carries on blithely, ‘and I’ll go in the front with him.’

  ‘I don’t want him to meet my … my … the old lady.’ I flush with embarrassment, because if Ellen is my grandmother then … what is she to Stella?

  ‘He’s not going to. Said he’d drop us off and then clear out until we ring him.’

  ‘But I don’t want to travel in his car!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Memories.’

  I can’t see that I’ve said anything funny, but they all start hooting and sniggering. Det puts two fingers in her mouth and gives a loud wolf whistle.

  ‘Oh, memories!’

  ‘Memories …’ Nick starts to sing the song from Cats.

  ‘Oh, shut the fuck up.’

  ‘Come on, Peach!’ Det puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘We’re not suggesting you marry the dick. Why not just use him?’

  When we’ve finished eating, Stella goes out into the hallway and comes back with a big bag. She pulls out skeins of brightly coloured wool and a pattern book.

  ‘The other thing I did today,’ she explains. ‘None of you is going to believe this.’

  ‘Knitting?’ Cassie picks up a couple of skeins, staring at them as if they might come alive. ‘What are you going to knit?’

  Stella pulls out the front half of a tiny multi-coloured baby’s jumper.

  ‘I’ve already started … see, I’m almost ready to start the back.’

  We all crowd around for a better look.

  ‘How did you know how to do it?’ I ask.

  ‘Ruby’s mum showed me.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Today.’ Stella smiles. ‘She said I was a natural.’ She looks at Det. ‘For your baby,’ she adds casually.

  Det nods slowly and we all look on in awe as Stella fires up the needles and begins clacking away as if she was born doing it.

  ‘Oh, I forgot to say that my old girl is collecting stuff for you, Det,’ Nick says casually.

  ‘Your mum?’

  ‘You mention the word baby and she goes into automatic drive.’ He clicks his fingers and grins.‘She said to tell you that she’s got all kinds of things from my sister. There is a lot of shit you gotta have.’

  ‘What kind of shit?’ I ask curiously.

  ‘Oh, you know, baby shit,’ he laughs. ‘There’s this cool little plastic bath with ducks around the edges that I sort of didn’t want to let go! And one of those high chairs and heaps of clothes, a million of those playsuit things. They’re yours if you want ’em.’

  Det gives him that edgy smile that I find so hard to read.

  ‘Okay, tell her thanks. That’d be good.’

  No one is talking much. Fluke and I haven’t exchanged a word apart from hello. I purposely chose the seat behind him so that I wouldn’t have to see his face, but that hasn’t worked out quite as I planned it. We’ve only just passed the airport and I’ve already caught his eye twice in the rear-vision mirror.

  Stella is still prattling on about knitting. Det is trying to seem interested, but she’s looking out the window most of the time and mumbling ‘hmmm’ a lot.

  I wish I could get as distracted myself. I want to look out the window and muse about nothing in particular, but I keep staring at the back of his head, at that squared-off copper’s cut, and I think about the way I used to touch him there. I’m also thinking of his skin, and the mole on his shoulder that he had to get cut out. There was a whole day waiting for the results. I think of sitting out on the back steps listening to him joking bleakly about what should go on his gravestone if it proved to be a fatal melanoma.

  Here lies a magnificent hero was his first suggestion. So of course I started getting into it and before long we were laughing like hyenas.

  He tried hard, but failed miserably in all he did was my final suggestion before Fluke picked me up and dumped me under the sprinkler, holding us both there until we were completely soaked. After we dried off we swore to each other that if he was let off this time we would never sunbake again. Ever.

  But there are no shenanigans today. Fluke is playing Mr Responsible, both hands on the wheel, looking straight ahead. I know him well enough to know that he is trying to tell me that there is nothing at all strange about driving his ex-girlfriend (who at last meeting told him she never wanted to speak to him again) up to the country to see her birth mother’s mother – when she’d always been adamant that she neither wanted, or needed to have anything to do with her birth family.

 
I want to tell him that nothing has changed, that I’m really only going for the old woman. But that would mean talking to him, and I am determined not to do that.

  ‘How’s the new school, Stella?’ I hear him ask my sister.

  ‘Okay,’ she says, the needles still clicking away.

  ‘Just okay?’

  ‘Look at me! Only the losers bother to talk to me.’

  ‘So,’ he asks casually, ‘what you gonna do about it?’

  I immediately see red. Just as if her problem is something that can be fixed there and then.

  ‘I dunno,’ she sighs miserably.

  If he weren’t doing us the huge heroic good deed of the century, I’d tell him to shut the fuck up and leave her alone.

  ‘You think it’s about your nana?’ he asks Stella, and our eyes lock for a second in the rear-vision mirror before I turn away. ‘I know Peach thinks it is,’ he adds, ‘and the teacher.’

  ‘Not really,’ she says, ‘but maybe.’

  He must be getting the vibe from me because he pretty much shuts up after that. In fact, we’re all so quiet for some time that it begins to feel a little eerie. The radio plays quietly underneath the hum of the car, and we’re all lost in our thoughts, I guess. I look at Det and then at my sister and finally end up staring at the back of Fluke’s head again.

  The countryside unwinds on either side of the freeway as we speed north, but I don’t really see it. Fluke is gunning the beast along, only just keeping to the speed limit most of the way. We surge past huge semitrailers and signs leading off to different towns, and I have a strong feeling that I’m hurtling off into the unknown.

  After half an hour, Det asks Fluke about his car, where he got it and how much it costs to run, which breaks up the silence. But the conversation peters out pretty quickly.

  I’d like to ask her if she’s thinking about ditching her beloved motorbike but that would mean joining in the conversation, so I lean my head against the window and close my eyes instead.

  ‘I can help,’ I hear Fluke say softly to Stella.

  ‘How?’ Stella replies.

  ‘Why don’t we get out together in the mornings?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I’ll drop by, and we’ll do an hour’s training before school.’

  You think I haven’t tried that? I want to scream.