‘That’s laughable. Anyway, Kevin has a girlfriend. And I’m … well, I just broke up with someone.’
‘Oh, sorry, Maggie. I guess I put my foot in it.’
‘No, you meant well. By the way, how are things going?’ She lowered her voice, even though every cubicle was empty. ‘Any luck yet with …?’
‘Not yet. I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with me.’
‘It might not be you. It could be the other party.’
‘I wouldn’t think so. He’s a father of three.’
‘Oh.’
‘If nothing happens in the next month or two, the GP is going to send me to a fertility specialist.’
‘Well, don’t give up hope. I fell pregnant after trying for two years.’
‘Really?’
‘It was a long time ago, when I was forty. And I lost the baby. I suppose it might have had something to do with my age. Who knows? But it took me years to get over it. I wanted a child very much.’
‘I’m sorry, Maggie.’
‘Thank you.’ She felt tears pricking her eyes. ‘But things will be different for you, Mei Zhen. You’re young and there’s plenty of time.’
Just then the door to the ladies’ room opened and Carole walked in.
‘Plenty of time for what?’ she asked.
‘To get a coffee before the bell goes,’ said Maggie.
‘See you later,’ said Mei Zhen, giving Maggie a wink as she left.
‘Did Kevin call you back?’ asked Carole.
‘Not yet.’
‘I’m surprised he hasn’t. I think he has a crush on you, Maggie.’
‘Pull the other one, Carole. By the way,’ Maggie said, changing the subject, ‘how are things going with Edward’s project?’
‘He’s sent it to a publisher,’ Carole whispered in reply.
‘Already? But he can’t have finished it yet. It’s only been a couple of weeks.’
‘He sent the first three chapters and a synopsis. At the rate he’s going, it will be completed before they get back to him, asking for the rest.’
‘You sound confident that they’ll like it.’
‘I read the synopsis. It’s really good.’ Carole lowered her voice. ‘Would you like to see it? I have a copy.’ As if she were a spy preparing to hand over a top-secret package, Carole scanned the powder room and when she was convinced all the cubicles were empty, she reached into the outside pocket of her handbag, removed a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Maggie.
THE PLAGUE
by Edward Clarke, M.D.
When the world is faced with a pandemic likely to decimate its population, experts from every country come together in New York, trying to find a cure. Finally they call on the one man who can help – Teddy Carpenter, a ruggedly handsome Australian doctor, who must work against the odds to perfect a cure before the killer disease reaches his homeland.
Maggie finished reading the blurb, struggling to quell the wave of laughter threatening to take hold of her body. Edward’s storyline sounded like a pastiche of every apocalyptic movie she’d ever seen, with a dash of Nevil Shute’s On the Beach for good measure. Tentatively she glanced across at Carole, whose expression was so earnest that Maggie immediately wiped the smile from her face and adopted a serious tone of voice.
‘Sounds intriguing. I can’t wait to read it. The title might be problematic though. Does Edward realise there’s already a book called The Plague – by Albert Camus?’
‘But it wouldn’t be as good as Edward’s, would it?’
‘Of course not,’ Maggie said, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Kevin
Kevin’s job was so important to him that he only took his holidays because the administration people insisted he couldn’t keep accumulating them. He was halfway through his second ‘sick’ day, and the thought of not being at work filled him with guilt. His job defined who he was. The job and, of course, his trivia. Kevin Dwyer, forensic accountant and trivia champion. But now that his notebooks were stuffed in plastic bags awaiting disposal, the job was all he had to hold on to.
He knew he should ring Maggie. Ever since Tuesday night, a series of text messages had been building on his phone, much like those unused holidays. But how was he going to tell her that he wasn’t returning to Clifton Heights Sports Club? That he was intending to abandon trivia and take up golf instead. If he played golf once a week and learned how to tell jokes and laugh at those told by other people, he might pass for a normal person. And maybe then his sister would allow him to see Patrick.
Maggie
Thursday was Maggie’s day off. She often joked that if your teaching load was point eight, you might as well be full-time, because that other day was always spent doing schoolwork. Today, though, she wouldn’t be doing any schoolwork at all; she intended to find Kevin instead. Apart from knowing he was employed by the tax office, she had no idea where he worked.
So she looked up the ATO’s website, but the list of locations provided no clue as to where the forensic people might be based. Did they have their own unit, or were they spread across the metropolitan area? She phoned the 1300 number given on the website, only to hear a computerised voice offering a multitude of options, none of which was relevant to someone wanting to be put through to a specific tax officer.
‘Bugger,’ she said aloud and hung up. She would have to go there in person. But which office? She decided to start with the CBD, only because it was easiest to access. Exactly what she was going to do or say when she got there, she had absolutely no idea.
At the city office Maggie had to wait in a queue. That was a good thing because she still hadn’t come up with a plan. How could she establish whether Kevin was alive and well when she wasn’t even sure that he worked there? Gradually the queue dissipated and she found herself at the counter opposite a man in his twenties with slick black hair.
‘Good morning,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m Margaret Taylor. I have an appointment with Mr Kevin Dwyer in the forensic accounting unit.’
‘What was that name again?’
‘Dwyer, Kevin. That’s D-W-Y-E-R.’
Maggie held her breath while the man typed the letters into his computer and scrolled down the screen.
‘I can’t find any appointments for Mr Dwyer today, Ms …?’
‘Taylor.’ Well, at least she was in the right building.
‘It was definitely today,’ Maggie said, trying to sound confident. ‘At twelve noon.’
‘I’ll just phone Mr Dwyer’s number and check for you.’
Maggie tried to look nonchalant as she waited to hear whether Kevin was at work or not. After a moment the man said, ‘I’m sorry, Ms Taylor. I’ve reached his voicemail.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Maggie. ‘I think I might have the date wrong after all. So sorry to have bothered you.’ And with that, she turned and headed straight for the exit doors. Once she was outside, she tried to slow her thumping heart by taking long, deep breaths. This detective stuff wasn’t fun at all. And she was no closer to solving the mystery of Kevin’s disappearance. Spotting a food stall, she bought herself a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then she took a seat at one of the tables arranged in the vicinity of the stall. She was just finishing the sandwich when she caught sight of Kevin, heading along the street. Grabbing her handbag, she dashed after him, catching up at the corner.
‘Kevin!’ she called, gasping for breath.
He turned as if he was in a trance. She hadn’t seen him in the daytime, only under those fluorescent lights of the Sports Club. Even so, she was sure his skin had never been the odd shade of grey that she saw now.
‘I was worried about you. You haven’t answered any of my calls.’ Maggie knew she sounded like a nagging mother, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘Sorry.’
‘I thought you’d been in an accident or something, and all you can say is “Sorry”?’
‘Sorry,’ he said once more, flinching at her words.
‘Well, at least you’re alive, even though you look like a ghost. Have you had any lunch?’
‘I was just going to buy a coffee.’
‘You need to eat something. Come with me.’ She took hold of his arm and propelled him down the street towards the food stall. ‘Now sit here,’ she said, indicating the table she had just left, where her half-finished coffee still sat undisturbed. ‘I’ll get you a sandwich.’
He seemed to be on the point of protesting, but she adopted her schoolteacher voice. ‘Just do what you’re told, Kevin Dwyer. And don’t you go disappearing on me again.’
In a couple of minutes Maggie was back with a tray of food.
‘I bought you a chocolate muffin as well,’ she said, arranging the food in front of him and pouring a sachet of sugar into his coffee, before stirring it vigorously with a plastic spoon.
‘Thanks,’ he said, looking down at the coffee.
‘You’re welcome.’ There was something about his hangdog expression that made her want to hug him. She racked her brain, trying to fathom what might have happened to make him so depressed. Was it that woman he’d been seeing? Had they broken up? It hadn’t seemed serious, but with Kevin, you could never tell. Then an awful thought struck her.
‘Your nephew’s okay, isn’t he?’
He glanced up from his coffee but avoided eye contact.
‘Not exactly.’
What did that mean? Maggie wondered. A feeling of dread was rising inside her. Please God, don’t let it be some form of terminal illness. The words ‘cancer’ and ‘leukaemia’ were running across her brain like a news banner. She made a pretence of sipping her coffee, though by now it was stone-cold, and waited for him to speak. Finally, when she had given up any hope of him elaborating, he whispered, ‘There’s something wrong with him. My sister wants me to go and get tested. She thinks I have it too.’
Then Kevin fell silent. After a while she tried again. ‘What is it, Kevin? What’s wrong with your nephew?’
The answer, when it came, wasn’t what she’d expected. Maggie was so relieved that she started to laugh.
‘What so funny?’
‘Nothing’s funny. I’m just relieved he isn’t seriously ill.’
Kevin paused for a moment before saying, ‘Do you think I might have it too, Maggie?’
‘I have to confess something, Kevin. When new students arrive at the start of the school year, the counsellor sends each member of staff a list of those kids with what we call “issues”. Learning problems, anxiety disorders, developmental difficulties. And do you know what I do with that list?’
He shook his head.
‘I put it in the digital drawer. I don’t even look at it until I’ve met the kids. I try to get to know each one as an individual, not as a problem or a disorder. After a week or two I go back to the sheet. You can’t ignore it, but at the same time you can’t define a child by a label.’
‘So you think he’ll be okay?’
‘The diagnosis has come early. That’s a very good thing. Patrick will need some help, some guidance as to how to deal with other people. It will be ongoing, but it’s not all doom and gloom. I imagine he has many positive things going for him. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes. He’s bright. Very bright. And he’s curious about the world.’
‘Well, you can encourage that, Kevin. As his uncle, you’re in the perfect position to mentor him and help to build on his strengths.’
‘My sister doesn’t want me to have anything to do with him. She says I’m a bad influence.’
Maggie spoke quietly and calmly. ‘Parents often need someone to blame, even when it’s nobody’s fault. But once they have time to process the information, they usually calm down.’
‘Do you really think she might change her mind?’
‘Yes, I do.’
After a moment he said, ‘I don’t think so, Maggie. Not while she thinks I’m peculiar.’
‘You’re different, not peculiar.’
‘I’ve always felt like an alien.’ He picked at the chocolate muffin.
‘I’ve felt that way too, Kevin. Maybe not like an alien, but like an outsider.’ She thought back to being labelled a ‘misfit’ and placed on the ‘bits and bobs’ table at Josh’s wedding. And the years of being an unattached woman among married friends, childless in a world filled with mothers.
‘You?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Yes, me.’
‘I don’t believe it. You’re the most normal person I know.’
‘I suppose I should take that as a compliment. But the older I get, the more I wonder what “normal” really is. Is it being married with two point three children and a mortgage? If that’s the case, a spinster who owns her own house and lives with a dog doesn’t fit the bill.’
She glanced across at Kevin, who was mechanically stirring his coffee.
‘Kevin, drink your coffee before it gets cold.’
Obediently he emptied the cup in one go.
‘Now eat your sandwich,’ she said, pushing the plastic container in front of him. ‘It’s ham and Swiss cheese with seeded mustard.’
‘You’re a good person, Maggie,’ he said, as he unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.
‘I’m not so sure about that, Kevin. I’ve made some very bad choices in my life. But there’s no formal label for the way I’ve behaved. Unless it’s “idiot” or “fool”.’ A sob escaped from her throat before she could stop it.
Kevin looked up from his sandwich. ‘It can’t be that bad.’
She sighed loudly. ‘I’m supposed to be consoling you, not the other way around.’
‘It’s just that you seem like such a popular person.’
‘Popular! I’m popular with my dog. And with most of my students. But not with the man I’ve been in love with my entire life. He doesn’t give a damn about me. And even though he dumped me twice, I came back for more. A serial idiot, that’s what I am.’ Suddenly something dawned on her. ‘No, that’s what I was. But not anymore.’
She expected to see him wincing with embarrassment at her tirade. Instead, he looked puzzled.
‘That man, the one who dumped you, what’s his name?’
‘Josh.’
‘Well, Josh is the idiot, not you.’
‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘I mean it.’
‘I know.’
Kevin always meant what he said. He didn’t say things just for the sake of it. False reassurances weren’t in his vocabulary.
Trivia Night
It was five to eight and everyone was there except Kevin. Maggie had a feeling they wouldn’t be seeing him again. He had more important things on his mind now – like finding a way back into his nephew’s life. As for her own role in the Dreamers, she’d already made a decision. She wouldn’t be coming back next season. Not if Kevin wasn’t part of the team.
‘Where the bloody hell is Kevin?’ Edward asked as the Professor moved towards the microphone, ready to begin the proceedings.
Maggie gazed at the doorway, praying that Kevin would appear at the last moment.
‘We’ll just have to do our best without him,’ Carole said.
‘He thought he was better than the rest of us, anyway,’ Edward said. ‘I don’t know why he joined us in the first place.’
As Maggie gave Edward a dark look, the Professor tapped the microphone.
‘Welcome to our final night of quiz questions before next week’s big reveal,’ he said. ‘With our top teams neck and neck, tonight’s contest will determine who takes out our major prize. This season, of course, we have a choice between a weekend for six in the Hunter Valley or a fabulous 64-inch plasma TV.’
There was loud applause from around the auditorium.
‘I want that holiday,’ said Mei Zhen.
‘Me too,’ said Maggie.
‘Tonight we’ve reverted to a general format with questions on a whole range of topics. No specialist rounds which might favour certain teams. So, witho
ut further ado, I’ll start with round one, question one. Answer sheets ready?
Who was known as the fifth Beatle?’
Maggie groaned. It was one of those questions with no definitive answer. Kevin would be appalled.
‘Brian Epstein,’ said Carole. ‘He was their manager.’
‘Sir George Martin,’ said Mei Zhen. ‘He arranged their music.’
‘Pete Best,’ said Edward. ‘He was their drummer before Ringo.’
‘That’s such a stupid question,’ said Maggie, who was recorder for the night. ‘There are just too many possibilities. Including Jimmie Nicol. The guy who replaced Ringo on the Australian leg of the 1964 tour. His Aussie fans were bitterly disappointed.’
‘Surely you don’t remember that, Maggie May. That would make you …’ Edward started adding on his fingers.
‘Of course, I don’t remember it! I read about it in an article marking the fiftieth anniversary of the tour.’ But a four-year-old Maggie had indeed watched the arrival of the Mop-Tops on TV, desperately crying over the absence of her favourite one. Her mother had retold that story many times over the years.
‘So, what are we going to put?’ Mei Zhen asked.
‘All of them,’ Ash said, ‘with an explanation next to each.’
Maggie was still writing furiously when the Professor began the next question.
Which European city is known as the Venice of the north?
‘Not again!’ Maggie said to herself.
‘Stockholm,’ said Edward.
‘No, it’s Bruges,’ Carole contradicted. ‘I went there in my student days.’
‘It’s definitely Amsterdam,’ Ash said, ‘because of the canals.’
‘All of them have bloody canals,’ said Edward.
‘What about Manchester?’ Mei Zhen asked.
‘Can we come to a consensus, please?’ Maggie demanded. ‘Time’s running out and I have to write something down. And I’m not doing a list this time.’
The Trivia Man Page 18