Spin Cycle

by Ilsa Evans

  ‘It does look a bit bruised, you know.’

  ‘That’s from swimming. One of the other kids kicked her in the face.’

  ‘Oh, the poor thing.’ Diane turns back from her niece to her overflowing plate and the rather daring kebab that she is holding in her hand. She turns the kebab over and examines it with a frown on her face.

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’ I ask with my best hostess smile.

  ‘Oh, yes. You’ve done a great job.’

  ‘Actually, it was nothing,’ I say with a wave of my hand, airily dismissing the hours of painstaking preparation which were sucked up by the spread before us. ‘A mere bagatelle.’

  ‘Sure it was. Listen, what are these?’ Diane holds out her kebab and looks at me questioningly. ‘What’s in them?’

  ‘That’s a trade secret, I’m afraid. They’re my own invention. Perhaps I’ll go into catering if I get the sack.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Stop playing with it and just eat it, Diane. It won’t kill you.’

  ‘But what are the purply bits? And these – are they bits of Brussels sprouts?’

  ‘Yes, and they’re full of iron for expectant mothers.’ I turn away and look out across the garden towards the plastic table. ‘Hey, your boys look like they’re enjoying themselves.’

  ‘Yes, they do, don’t they?’ Diane puts her kebab down, wipes her fingers ostentatiously on a serviette and follows my gaze over to the younger crowd. Nicholas is engaged in what looks like a deep and meaningful conversation with Bronte, while Evan and Christopher exchange verbal witticisms with Sara and Sam, who has rejoined them. The two thirteen-year-olds, Ben and Michael, are sitting together, keeping an eye on the proceedings while they demolish food at an alarming rate. I’m sure their priorities will change rapidly over the next few years.

  ‘It’s good to see Ben and Michael getting on so well for once.’

  ‘Yes, I asked Michael to make a special effort. After all, they are the same age.’

  ‘Great,’ I comment dryly while telling myself not to be sensitive. ‘Hey, Nick and Bronte seem to be really hitting it off as well.’

  ‘Yes, I did notice that,’ she replies with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘So, when’s the big announcement?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous – they’ve only just met.’

  ‘What?’ I follow her gaze over to where Nicholas and Bronte are still locked in conversation. ‘Not them, I meant the twins.’

  ‘She doesn’t need to make an announcement,’ David interrupts with a big grin at his wife.‘ All anyone needs to do is look at how much food is on her plate to know that she’s eating for three!’

  ‘Shut up!’ Diane grins back and reaches for a hamburger bun while David leans over to drop a kiss on the crown of her head.

  Well, at least it’s obvious that whatever differences they’ve had over the last week have been patched up and ironed over. I’m glad – for Diane’s sake. I get up, fetch some bottles from the Eskies, and start to replenish drinks around the table.

  ‘Grandma, how did you know I wanted to hab a new bird more than anything?’

  ‘A little birdie told me, dear.’

  ‘Oh, Grandma! Does it talk?’

  ‘No, darling, that was another little birdie.’ My mother turns to where I am hovering behind her with a bottle of wine and gives me a broad smile. I’m not sure why, because I’m as confused as CJ is regarding the origin of her satanic powers.

  ‘Oh. Is it a boy or a girl?’

  ‘Elizabeth’s boyfriend is a vet, dear. Ask him.’

  ‘Excuse me, is my bird a girl?’ CJ looks straight at Harold and waits patiently for an answer. Diane snickers, Elizabeth glowers, Mum frowns, and Phillip comes to the rescue.

  ‘Hi, CJ, I’m Elizabeth’s boyfriend and, yes, your bird is a girl.’

  ‘Cool beans. I’m going to call her Holly.’

  ‘That’s a lovely name.’

  ‘Yes, it’s after the Holly Spirit.’

  ‘CJ, that’s not the Holly Spirit,’ I get in quickly before my mother can comment on her granddaughter’s obvious lack of religious education. ‘It’s the Holy Spirit.’

  ‘Yuk!’ CJ gives me an affronted look as if I am personally responsible. ‘Then I’ll call her Britney.’

  ‘Delicious food, thanks for the invite.’

  I jump as I realise that Phillip is addressing me. I have worked my way back around to David’s chair replenishing drinks, and as he has moved across into my vacant chair in order to whisper sweet nothings into his wife’s ear, I plonk myself down and try to remember how to flirt.

  ‘Oh, that’s okay.’ Well done, a scintillating answer which is sure to make an everlasting impression and open up a mutual exchange of witty repartee.

  ‘Actually, it’s nice to finally meet all of Beth’s family.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ I just keep getting better and better.

  ‘What happened to your window?’

  ‘An accident.’ And better.

  ‘Are you rather accident-prone?’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Well, the first time I saw you, you were lying at the foot of an escalator.’

  ‘Ha ha. No, that was a one-off. The window was something else – kids, you know.’

  ‘They seem like lovely children.’

  ‘They might seem like that, but appearances can be deceiving.’

  ‘Well, I’ll just hang on to my illusions, shall I?’ He turns and I am treated to the full effect of his smile. ‘Besides, I’m sure you’ve done a wonderful job with them.’

  ‘I’ve tried,’ I answer inanely, mesmerised by his teeth.

  ‘Couldn’t their father join us today?’

  ‘What!’ I am jolted out of my trance. ‘I mean, I thought you knew. I’m divorced.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry.’ And he looks genuinely sorry. ‘Beth didn’t tell me.’

  ‘How long have you known her? Elizabeth, I mean.’

  ‘We’re nearly at our six month anniversary.’

  God, a man who keeps track of anniversaries! We lapse into silence and I gaze slowly around the table at everybody. The ice appears to have broken and they are all talking quite comfortably now. Diane has joined in the conversation with Terry and Maggie, while David has moved around to sit between my mother and Harold where he is being regaled with the story of how they met. Apparently, and this is news to me, it was at a meeting of the Victorian Richard III Society where Harold was delivering a talk entitled ‘Sibling Rivalry: The Relationship between Elizabeth and the Princes in the Tower’. During question time, my mother asked a particularly searching question that impressed Harold no end and the rest, as they say, is history. Being the Richard III Society, I suppose that it was. I take a few minutes to mentally absorb the fact that my mother – my mother – attends meetings of the Richard III Society (how much more do I not know about this woman?), and then continue looking around the table.

  Almost immediately, I meet Elizabeth’s eyes straight on. We stare at each other for a few seconds until she breaks contact and turns away to join in the conversation with our mother. Ha! I’ve always been able to win those staring contests and it’s good to know that I still haven’t lost my touch.

  ‘In the bosom of her respectable family she resided.’

  ‘Pardon?’ I turn to Phillip questioningly.

  ‘It’s a quote, you just reminded me … here, surrounded by your family.’

  ‘Oh, I know! Fanny Burney, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right! Well done!’

  We grin at each other, companionably linked by the discovery of a common love of literature. He has the most gorgeous brown eyes. Then something unexpected happens – like a little charge – and we both quickly break eye contact. I look up, across, anywhere but at him. Unfortunately, this brings me into direct eye contact with my mother, who has ceased talking momentarily and is now staring narrowly from me to Phillip and then, unfortunately, back again.

  ‘Have you h
eard from the police yet, dear?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know, about the assault. When will your case be heard?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ I answer through clenched teeth.

  ‘Perhaps you saw my daughter on the front page of the paper this week, Phillip. She was the one arrested for attacking a policeman. Did you see it?’

  ‘No, I didn’t actually.’ Phillip turns to me questioningly.

  ‘It was nothing,’ I mumble, ‘just a … a –’

  ‘An accident?’ he enquires politely.

  ‘I saw it.’ Bloody Elizabeth seizes the chance to join in: ‘In fact, I even brought the paper. I didn’t know whether you had all seen it so I thought I’d bring it along. Now, where did I put it?’

  ‘I don’t know, dear.’ My mother glances across at Elizabeth and frowns slightly. ‘Perhaps you left it at home.’

  ‘I’m sure I had it when we came outside, maybe it’s on one of the chairs.’

  Everybody, except my mother and I, dutifully gets up and peers at and around their chair. No paper. Thank god.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, Beth.’ Phillip looks at me as he says this. He seems rather uncomfortable with what is going on. ‘It’ll turn up.’

  Elizabeth turns from Phillip to glare furiously at me. I glare furiously back.

  ‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere. Is that right?’

  Everybody turns to look at Harold, who is looking at Maggie.

  ‘Where is it?’

  Everybody turns to look at Elizabeth. Elizabeth looks annoyed.

  ‘Drop it, Beth.’

  Everybody turns to look at Phillip.

  ‘Drinks, anyone?’ Terry jumps up and grabs a bottle of champagne, which she brandishes wildly in the air. ‘Champers? Or there’s beer in the Esky over there if you want it.’

  ‘Mummy, do Caitlin and I hab to eat these horrible things on sticks?’

  ‘Never forget a face, never.’

  ‘Announcements! That’s what we need,’ David says loudly. ‘You fill the glasses, Terry, we’ll make a few toasts. CJ, go and tell the kids to come over for a minute.’

  I push myself out of my chair and begin to clear the table. Maggie gets up to help and we move all the plates over to the makeshift salad bar. I cover the remainder of the meat (which is mainly my rather daring kebabs – obviously this crowd is unworthy of true gourmet cookery) and take it inside to put in the fridge.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ Phillip has followed me inside. ‘I’m guessing there’s a little bit of sibling rivalry between you and Beth?’

  ‘Something like that.’ I hesitate before deciding that I might as well be frank: ‘Actually, we’ve just never particularly liked each other.’

  ‘That happens, I suppose.’ Phillip leans against the island bench and surveys me thoughtfully. ‘But I think she does like you, she talks about you all the time.’

  ‘Yeah, sure! Then what was that all about?’

  ‘Well, you have to know Beth. I think she’s a bit mixed up about you.’ He frowns, as if unsure how much to tell me. ‘Look, she’s insecure anyway – about me, I mean – and I think when she saw us getting along, well, especially because it was you, because she has this jealousy thing going about you –’

  ‘Jealous of me?’

  ‘Yes, didn’t you know? It’s pretty obvious. I mean, you and Diane are really good friends, and then there’s Beth. She says she’s always felt left out. I think that’s why your mother bends over backwards with her. She sees that Beth needs it.’

  ‘You seem to know an awful lot about us already, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, as I said, Beth talks about you a lot. All of you.’

  ‘If she talks about me so much, how come you didn’t know I was divorced?’

  ‘Oh, she wouldn’t talk about personal things. Only things that have something to do with her, you know.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ I reply dryly as I open the fridge door. ‘You’re really fond of her, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  I stand there, at the open fridge, and look at him for a moment. He really is fond of her, I can tell. My stomach contracts and I give an involuntary sigh for the what-might-have-been. There was chemistry there, I’m not so out of practice that I can’t recognise that. And what’s more, he knows it too. We look at each other in silence for a few seconds and I think about how unfair life is. Phillip is the first to break the silence. Leaning forward abruptly, he takes my hand, the one that’s not holding the fridge door open, and clasps it between his own.

  ‘Perhaps you could make an effort for my sake. Get to know her. She’s really not that bad. Then we could see more of you … I – we’d like that.’

  We both stare down at our clasped hands for a minute and then I become aware of someone standing in the doorway behind Phillip. I snatch my hand away and look up guiltily.

  ‘You’ll have to show everyone Alex’s new house later.’ Maggie is staring suspiciously at the pair of us. ‘I’m sure they’d love to see it.’

  ‘I don’t have a key.’

  ‘No, of course you don’t – yet. I meant just the outside.’ Maggie turns to Phillip: ‘Alex is Samantha and Benjamin’s father, Phillip, and he’s coming back from overseas in February. We are all very much looking forward to it. Now, everyone’s waiting for you two.’ With that she turns and goes back outside.

  ‘Was that a warning?’ Phillip says, laughing as he passes me the covered meat platter to put in the fridge.

  ‘Do you know, I think it was!’ I smile back and reflect on the fact that it’s just as well I have never had a desire to indulge in extramarital affairs – I would obviously be absolutely lousy at it. I hand Phillip a plate of dip, celery and crackers to take outside. I still don’t think that Elizabeth deserves him, but finders keepers. If there is honour among thieves, then there has to be some among sisters. Could she really be jealous of me? I’ll file this away for future reference – perhaps I’ll even discuss it with Terry at next Friday’s mutual therapy session.

  I look through the kitchen window and watch Phillip heading down the path to the cedar table. He really is very tall. Maybe Terry was right and part of his appeal lies in the fact that Elizabeth is already going out with him. But what does that say about me? I decide to look on the bright side. I already have one brother-in-law with whom I have a purely brotherly relationship, perhaps now I’ll have one with undercurrents of sexual tension. I love undercurrents of sexual tension, and they are sure to make family occasions that much more exciting.

  Besides, do I really want a man in my life just now? Can I make that sort of room? Or, more importantly, do I want to make that sort of room? I finally feel like I am making some inroads into understanding me and suddenly all sorts of directions seem to be opening up. Maybe I’ll go back to university, get a career going. Besides, a little voice whispers cheekily, it might be sort of fun to still be single next February when you-know-who moves in next door. I quickly whip the little voice into submission and shovel it into a cerebral closet.

  I watch Phillip put the platter down on the table and slide into his seat next to Elizabeth, who doesn’t look at all happy. No, she can keep him, I’m going to be just fine. I didn’t even feel tempted when Terry was talking about trying to find another relationship the other night. I need to work out where my life is going, and what I want to do with it, before I attempt to fit somebody else into it. That gives you about six months, shrieks the little voice through a chink in the closet door. I board it up and ignore it because Alex is not an option. Been there, done that, and still bringing up the kids to prove it. So Alex is out of the question. However, I’m certainly not ruling out a relationship with someone else because I really don’t envisage growing old alone. It’s just for now, yes. I think it suits me. My whole life so far feels like it has been a series of compromises, and now suddenly I’ve been given this golden opportunity for change. And I’m going to take it. N
ow that I finally feel like I’ve got a full hand on the roller-coaster wheel, I want to be the one steering.

  I am shaken out of my reverie by the shrill sound of the doorbell. I frown as I’m not expecting anybody else. I knew I should have insisted that the sign stay on the door. I cast one more look at Phillip, who is now engaged in what looks like a very earnest discussion with my younger sister, and head for the front door. I open it wide and there stands Joanne, dressed all in black: black pants, black shirt, black cardigan. So I scream.

  ‘Aaah!’ I scream.

  ‘Aaah! Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!’

  ‘Oh, you didn’t scare me. I just wasn’t expecting anyone, that’s all.’

  ‘But I rang the doorbell and you opened the door …’

  ‘Never mind! So what can I do for you?’

  ‘Oh. Well, it’s just that I’ve been doing some thinking and I thought perhaps I’d better have a talk with you.’ She hesitates, obviously expecting an invitation inside at this point.

  ‘And?’ I ask questioningly, because there is no way that I am asking her inside.

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Joanne’s face starts to colour. ‘Well, I just thought that I might owe you an apology.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes. I should never have overreacted the way I did.’ Her face continues to colour rapidly. ‘What happened afterwards was entirely my fault. And I feel simply dreadful about your suspension.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. In fact I’ve told Alan exactly what happened, that’s how I ended up being suspended as well.’ Joanne’s face is now clashing violently with the bright red of her hair and her freckles have begun to merge. ‘But I thought that’s probably not good enough and I should come around here and apologise in person. So – I’m sorry.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Yes. I know it’s not good enough but it’s the best I can do. And I know it’s no excuse but I’ve been under a mass of personal stress lately and I think it all got to me on Tuesday and I snapped. I’m sorry that you ended up in the firing line. Literally.’

  ‘Well. I don’t know what to say.’ I stop there because I really don’t know what to say.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything. Oh, and here you are.’ She holds out a bulky plastic bag. ‘I think this is yours, I found it after you were arrested.’