Queen Kat, Carmel and St Jude Get a Life

by Maureen McCarthy

  ‘Oh yes, she’d do anything for you,’ I went on, thinking how odd it was, me sticking up for one of them! ‘She’s got a heart of gold.’

  ‘Well, is that so?’ Mr McCaffrey asked thoughtfully. ‘We thought she might be having a bad influence on our Carmel, didn’t we, Nance?’

  I opened my mouth, about to say something else, then thought better of it. What a funny pair! I watched them mulling over what I’d said.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to have a yap,’ Carmel’s father said at last. His wife nodded and he walked out.

  ‘So how do you feel?’ I said, wanting to break the silence. I was immediately embarrassed. But she didn’t seem to find my question ironic or to take offence.

  ‘Oh, not too bad, love,’ she said. ‘The nurse comes out every day . . . soon it will be twice a day. It’s very good of your mother to think of me, send out those things . . . it means a lot, you know.’

  ‘Yes.’ I felt a sudden rush of emotion. How awful it must be to know you’re going to die! I turned my face away from her. This poor woman, as if she’d want my tears! Her thin dry hand reached out and patted my leg.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ she said. ‘I’ve been wanting to see you.’ I looked at her in surprise as I pulled a hanky from my pocket and blew my nose.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ she went on. ‘Everyone said you were so pretty, much prettier than your sister. But I haven’t seen you since you were about six or seven, so I couldn’t pass judgement.’

  ‘Really?’ I laughed, pleased.

  ‘And you are pretty, too,’ she said firmly, patting my knee again. ‘You’re as pretty as everyone says.’

  ‘Well, thank you.’ It’s hard to explain, but coming from this odd sick woman it was a real compliment.

  ‘I wish Carmel would lose weight,’ she said suddenly. ‘She’s a terror for eating the wrong things, isn’t she?’ I looked at her in surprise, cleared my throat and looked away. This was turning into a strange conversation. Did she want me to answer that? I honestly didn’t know what to say. For a start, I had no idea of Carmel’s eating habits.

  ‘I don’t mind dying,’ she said, as though this was a natural follow-on from what we’d been talking about. ‘There’s no tragedy in dying. It’s just the kids, you know, leaving them before they’ve grown up properly.’ I nodded. Once again my eyes brimmed with tears. My gran had told me that her mother had died early, leaving her and her two sisters alone in the world.

  ‘Yes. That must be the terrible part,’ I said. ‘They’re lovely, those two young boys . . . I, er . . . haven’t met the rest of them.’ ‘Oh yes. Joey and Shane.’ She smiled and sighed. ‘What about Carmel, though? How is she? Do you think she’s happy down there?’

  ‘Well . . .’ I said. ‘I think so.’

  ‘The city is so big . . .’

  ‘Well, I think she’s doing okay . . .’

  ‘That’s good,’ she replied. ‘I trust you, Katerina. I wouldn’t know about that other girl. You live with Carmel. You should know. . .’

  I nodded stupidly and almost laughed. Oh God, if only she knew how far off the mark she was!

  She began to move around uncomfortably in the bed, rearranging the pillows, sighing and closing her eyes a little as if she was exhausted.

  ‘Is there something I can do for you?’ I asked softly. She fell back against the pillows as though frustrated, and looked at the clock on her bedside table.

  ‘No, love. It’s time for my pills again, that’s all.’

  ‘Can I get them for you?’

  ‘No, Nev will bring them in.’ She leant across and picked up a small bell and shook it sharply a couple of times. ‘Well, I’m so glad to have seen you at last, Katerina. I remember the day your mum and dad were married.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, intrigued.

  ‘Oh yes.’ Her face was alight with the memory, even as she began to twist her body about in distress. ‘We all went down the church for a squiz. Your mother looked a picture! Princess Grace to a T. Everyone said so.’ There was quick knock at the door and Mr McCaffrey came in with the pills and a glass of water on a green plastic tray.

  ‘Here you are, love,’ he said, settling the tray down and unscrewing the lid of a brown bottle of pills.

  ‘Are the young people still out there?’ she asked, as her scrawny hand took the pills and brought them clumsily to her mouth.

  ‘Yes, love,’ he answered, holding the glass of water to her lips. ‘They’re all still sitting out on the back verandah.’

  ‘Nice for Carmel to have the company, isn’t it?’ she said, swallowing, and then relaxing back into the pillows. I got up to go.

  ‘You thank your mother for me, won’t you?’ she whispered, grasping my hand in her thin cold one. ‘Tell her I remember her wedding day like it was yesterday.’

  ‘I will.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll tell her.’

  When I got out to the kitchen, two older boys were telling off the twins for not cleaning up after themselves. Their voices were loud, rough and good-natured.

  ‘You’re bloody hopeless, Joe.’

  ‘Yeah, we’re not your friggin’ servants!’ When they saw me they stopped and eyed me curiously.

  ‘This is Anthony,’ their father said, pointing to the older of the two boys. ‘And Bernie.’

  ‘Hello, Anthony. Hello, Bernie,’ I said. The younger boy seemed less forbidding. The resemblance to Carmel wasn’t as marked in these two. They were both tall and very dark. The older one was obviously very conscious of his bad acne, because he kept putting his hand up to his face in an attempt to hide it.

  ‘Boys, this is your sister’s friend, Katerina Armstrong,’ their father said formally.

  ‘We know who she is,’ the younger one said sullenly. ‘We live in this town.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘How would you two like to come back to my house with me?’ I asked the twins suddenly. ‘I’ve got a swimming pool.’ Their father smiled and shrugged to say he didn’t mind.

  ‘In this weather?’ Anthony mocked.

  ‘It’s solar-heated,’ I said cheerfully.

  ‘Wow!’ The younger boys’ eyes were dancing. ‘Yeah! I want to!’

  ‘It’ll give them a break,’ I said, looking at the older boys, ‘and my guess is you all need a break from them, too?’ They had the good grace to smile. ‘And they can stay for dinner,’ I went on, very pleased with myself.

  ‘That’ll be real nice,’ their father said quietly. ‘I haven’t been able to do much for the kids, what with Mum being sick . . .’

  ‘Okay, guys, collect your things,’ I said, turning to their father. ‘I’ll bring them back out after.’

  ‘No need,’ said a new male voice. I turned to find yet another brother! This must be the oldest one. Vince. He’d come in from outside and he had dirt and oil all over his hands and jeans. The only other garment he had on was an old V-necked jumper, also grimy with oil stains. No shirt or shoes. His face was tough and tanned and unsmiling. A lock of coppery curly hair, same as Carmel’s, but with flecks of white dust in it, was falling over his forehead. He stood there, tall and straight, stern as a Roman centurion, muscles in his legs and arms pronounced beneath the rough clothing.

  ‘I’ve got to go into town later,’ he said. ‘So I’ll pick them up.’ ‘Okay,’ I said.

  ‘What? About six or seven?’ he said walking through the room to the fridge. He took out the water container, opened it, took a swig, and then slammed the fridge door shut.

  ‘Any time after seven,’ I said. ‘We’ll have an early dinner. Do you know our house? It’s up the . . .’

  ‘I know your house.’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned, looking at me directly for the first time. ‘It’s that little cheapo number on the hill, isn’t it? Tell your parents from me that they oughta get that joint fixed up. It’s bringing down the general tone of the town . . .’

  I laughed, and felt a pleasurable heat
rise to my cheeks. Around me all the boys and their father were laughing too. ‘I’ll do that,’ I said.

  ‘Good on ya.’

  Carmel walked me stiffly to the gate. Jude and the others had said goodbye and were watching us from the verandah. I had no idea if Carmel approved of my taking her two younger brothers off for the afternoon, but I figured that our relationship could hardly get any worse.

  ‘Well, thank you,’ she muttered, not looking at me.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I said demurely, and walked out to the car.

  I look back on the afternoon that I spent with the two boys as another kind of start for me. Something simple and wonderful. First we turned on the solar heating. Then I made them milkshakes while we waited for the pool to heat up. They were so excited by everything, so pleased about getting away.

  At the beginning I was a bit concerned because they seemed to want to check out the whole house by themselves. I waited in the kitchen, listening as they walked from room to room, making awe-struck comments and noises.

  ‘Oh wow! Get a load of this!’

  ‘It’s a stairway, Joe. See!’

  ‘Her parents must be so rich.’

  ‘How would you know which room to go to?’

  But to my relief, after about the first five minutes they lost their sense of awe. We went into the garden and the conversation started to bubble up naturally again. Mum arrived back from her meeting, and not long after that Dad came home with Lou and Jean-Paul. Everyone was delighted that I’d invited the boys back.

  ‘Very thoughtful of you, darling,’ Mum whispered to me in the kitchen. ‘They probably need cheering up.’ Of course, no one had any idea of what they were doing for me.

  Lou and Jean-Paul went to change and Dad asked the boys questions about school. What grade are you in? Do you have spelling tests? What’s the capital of India? Silly stuff like that. But the boys answered very politely, and shared sneaky grins when his back eventually turned and he said he was going to read the paper.

  Mum’s answer is always to feed people up.

  ‘How about another slice of cake, dear?’

  ‘More biscuits, Shane?’

  ‘Mum!’ I said laughing. ‘We’re going to have a swim. Stop it or they’ll sink!’

  After about an hour they decided they couldn’t wait any longer – the pool was barely warmer than frozen and my parents grumbled about them catching their death – but the boys simply pulled off their clothes and jumped in. They played like seals: squealing, panting, sliding about. They called out to each other, dive-bombed, let out wild yelps and whistles.

  I could see my parents enjoyed the whole thing from behind the glass in the downstairs sunroom window.

  ‘Come in, ya chicken!’ Joe called to me. ‘It’s fantastic!’ So I did. Me! Who would never have dreamed of swimming in cold water. I borrowed an old pair of Mum’s bathers and dived in. They were rapt, swimming under water, pulling my legs from under me, dunking me and challenging me to races. I’d been a good diver at school and they were very impressed when I showed them my style and demonstrated a few points about the different dives.

  ‘So keep your toes pointed and try to flip at the end . . .’

  ‘Grouse!’

  ‘I can do that.’

  ‘Watch me, Katerina!’

  ‘Is this right?’

  ‘Watch me!’

  I hadn’t had as much fun in ages.

  Afterwards we all sat around outside on the patio and ate potatoes, sausages and slightly burnt chops. We were all rugged up against the cold. My mother had pulled out these old jumpers and coats from somewhere and insisted we wear them. We ate grinning at each other, and burst into raucous laughter when the sauce container Dad had been shaking and squeezing suddenly farted a heap of sauce over his whole plate.

  ‘Oh my goodness me!’ he exclaimed. The boys spluttered with glee, ate heartily and drank gallons of soft drink. Most of all, I think they reminded us – my parents and me, and Lou and Jean-Paul – what fun life could be at eight.

  The talk ranged happily around their school, their family and the local football. I was surprised at how much my parents knew.

  Their big brother was obviously the boys’ prime source of information about most things.

  ‘Vince says that Conroy can’t play, ’cause . . .’

  ‘Vince knows . . .’

  ‘Vince had a job in the Kimberley. He reckons . . .’

  When he arrived to pick them up it was around seven and quite dark. I was sitting with the two boys up in my old tree-house explaining the games my sister and I had played up there with our old dog. I saw Vince and Dad walking slowly down the garden towards us, talking quietly. He was dressed in exactly the same way as he had been earlier, except for a pair of work boots on his feet. And for some reason I felt shy, a brand-new experience for me.

  ‘How’s it goin’?’ He grinned up at us, stopping a couple of metres away.

  ‘Good,’ I said.

  ‘Look at this, Vince!’ Joe said, as he slithered down the old rope quick as a monkey, and landed at his brother’s feet. ‘And this!’ Shane was down just as fast.

  ‘Hmm . . . not bad.’ Vince patted him on the head and then looked up again at me. ‘Your turn now.’ I laughed. It was quite a long way down. I hadn’t slithered down that rope since I was ten. I contemplated showing off, but I didn’t risk it. Instead I edged back into the tree-house and came down gradually via the branches.

  ‘Piker.’ Joe teased me as I joined their small group. I tousled his hair and we began to walk back towards the house.

  ‘Well, listen, thanks a lot.’ Vince turned from my parents to me.

  ‘That’s fine. They were great,’ I replied, unable to meet his shrewd look. It’s as though he’s looking inside me, wanting to see what makes me tick.

  ‘No, it was good,’ he insisted quietly. ‘The kids needed a break.’ I nodded to show I understood. Mum, Dad and I stood in a line and watched the three of them clamber into the beat-up old ute and slam the doors shut. Vince wound the window down.

  ‘Give our warm regards to your mother, Vince,’ my father called formally.

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  ‘And your father, of course,’ Mum added.

  ‘Right. Well be seein’ ya then,’ he said, and started the engine. I ran around to his door. He looked surprised.

  ‘Whenever I’m home next I’d like to take the boys out again . . .’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, and grinned. ‘But you don’t come home often, do ya?’ I shrugged, feeling an idiot.

  ‘Well, whenever I am anyway . . .’ I said.

  ‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘Thanks again.’ Then they were gone.

  The phone was ringing when I went back inside the house. Thankfully the rest of the family were in the kitchen, so I was alone in the front room. It was Kara. She’d been searching for me all day. Had I gone into hiding? I knew something was up. I knew without her telling me. I just needed to know how bad it was. She’d seen my name in the Herald Sun that morning. Had I seen it? I couldn’t speak. She wanted to know if I was all right. Was I all right? Yes, I guessed so. The article was very small, she assured me. No photos or anything. I wasn’t to worry too much. My name was just there among a dozen others. Charged with possession of illegal drugs. They’d listed me as a first-year Melbourne University Law student who was to appear in court in two months. Kara wanted to know about Jules. No one had seen him for days. Had he been caught, too? Oh God! She wanted to know if my parents had heard anything. How was I going to keep it from them? What was I going to say when they did find out?

  WHEN JUDE AND I WERE DROPPED OFF AT the house in Carlton on Sunday night it was after eight. We made ourselves some cheese on toast and settled down to eat it at the kitchen table. The weekend at home had given me more than fresh air. I felt renewed and more buoyant than I’d felt in months.

  The doorbell rang and I guessed it would be one of Jude’s friends because she winked at me and
eagerly disappeared down the hallway. I hoped it would be Eduardo. She’d admitted in the car on the way back that she was mad about him, but couldn’t tell if he really liked her.

  I began to eat, feeling tired, going over the weekend and what I had in front of me. Somehow I’d have to try to steer my way through it all. Why should my parents ever have to hear about it? They never mixed with people who read the tabloids, they hardly ever watched television. Some in Manella would gossip, but I couldn’t imagine those people ever getting near my parents.

  Jude returned, her face tense with apology.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It’s that guy . . . Jordan. I didn’t know if you wanted me to show him in or not.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ I got up, my heart switching down into a lower gear.

  He was waiting for me in the lounge room, sitting on the arm of a chair near the heater looking studiously morose. As soon as I saw him I simply wanted to run straight past him and out the front door. But Jude was banging things around in the kitchen behind me and it gave me a bit of confidence. I could tell she was reminding me that she was there and ready to support me.

  ‘Hello, pet.’ He stood up. Pet? How dare you call me pet? I stalled him by staying very still, not smiling and staring at him, trying to contain myself. He was dressed in linen as usual; black wide pants and a cream shirt, his full-length leather coat lying across the back of the lounge. My mind went hazy. Images and emotions dipped and swung about my head. Where had I met him? Who’d introduced me to him? How could I have been so naive?

  I suddenly saw him from Jude’s point of view. The gold ring in his ear, the soft pampered fleshiness of his bland handsome face, the chain around his throat. I shuddered as I noticed one of his hands tapping the back of the chair. More gold there. The ring and the heavy bracelet. My throat contracted into an awful dry retch. Our eyes met. Yes, he was a seriously handsome man. About thirty. He wasn’t the sort to be dismissed by a schoolgirl.

  ‘Listen! I’m not going to put up with this schoolgirl bullshit!’ he’d yelled that day when I’d baulked at posing the way he wanted me to. When the session had finished at last – we’d reached a compromise on a shot that pleased neither of us – and I was pulling my jeans back on in his bathroom, deciding that I’d had enough, that I wouldn’t get involved with anything like this again, the door had slowly opened. Without knocking.