‘When?’ Nancy wants to know.
‘When I first started getting sick in the morning,’ Sarah answers.
‘When was that?’
‘A week ago, three days before Mole saw me in the kitchen.’ ‘And?’
‘He said he’d speak to his parents.’
‘And that was a week ago and he hasn’t been back?’
‘He hasn’t been to school either,’ Mike interjects. ‘I heard someone say he was supposed to play in the parents and teachers versus the school’s first eleven cricket match but didn’t turn up.’
‘I see. Seen him since then, Sarah?’ Sarah bows her head, she’s ashamed. ‘No,’ she says. ‘You sure?’ Nancy is suspicious.
‘No, Mum!’ Sarah looks her straight in the eye. You can tell she’s telling the truth. More than any of us, she’s the one who never tells a lie.
‘Why the rotten little shit!’ Nancy shouts out. And we all know immediately that the old Nancy is back. Someone’s done something to one of us kids and they’re going to have to pay. ‘We’ll soon see about that!’ she says, scraping back her chair.
One thing that hasn’t changed with us since the bad news is that we’re still all included in what’s happening. Maloneys do things together. Except for little Colleen, who’s gone off to bed and is too young to be a part of it.
And Tommy, who hasn’t come home and is probably sitting down by the lake with the other town no-hopers getting himself paralytic on sweet sherry. We’re sitting at the table after dinner where this conversation is taking place. Nancy now gets up and goes to the phone and dials the exchange.
‘Mum, don’t do that!’Mike yells out. ‘They listen in, you know that!’
But Nancy takes no notice. ‘Philip Templeton,’ she snaps to the girl at the telephone exchange. We all groan and bring our hands up to our faces, just the tone of her voice is sufficient to put the exchange on red alert. ‘Mr Templeton?’ a slight pause then, ‘This is Nancy Maloney, Sarah’s mother. We’re coming over right now!’ Murray Templeton’s father must have said something like it wasn’t convenient, because Nancy snaps, ‘That’s just too bad, you’ve had a week to contact us, you can expect us in fifteen minutes!’ She slams down the phone. ‘Right then, everyone into the Diamond T.’ ‘Oh, Mum!’ Sarah howls.
‘You shut up!’ Nancy says. ‘I’ve had enough. Who do they think they are?’ ‘What about Colleen?’ Bozo says.
‘Wrap her in a blanket and bring her along, they might as well see how the other half lives.’
We’re in our clothes for around the house and barefoot, even Sarah.
‘We’ll need to change,’ Mike says.
‘No time for that, now,’ Nancy snaps, ‘We’ll go as we are, they can jolly well take us as they find us.’
Sarah’s already run into her and Nancy’s bedroom, her eyes full of panic. Because of the heat, she’s wearing an old pair of shorts and a sort of bra thing that’s the top from her bathers. It’s going to be tough on her having to face the parents.
It seems like only moments later when she emerges. She’s carrying Colleen who is still asleep and wrapped in a blanket. Sarah’s done a lightning change and she’s wearing pedal pushers and tennis shoes with a clean white T-shirt. From where I am, I can see her from the back, her waist is slim as ever and, from looking every time I see her, I know there still isn’t any bulge in front to show what’s happened. She’s even had time to put a brush through her hair. Sarah looks about fourteen years old.
We heave-ho Nancy up into the Diamond T. Sarah and Colleen climb in after her and the rest of us stay in the back, including Bozo’s mutts. Bozo doesn’t go anywhere without Bitzers One to Five. ‘They’re our family too,’ he always says. ‘They guard the Diamond T.’
‘Who’s going to be stupid enough to steal it?’ Mike wanted to know.
It doesn’t take long to get to the Templetons’ house which is up the side of the hill a bit further along the same street from Oliver Twist. His and their house are the only ones in Yankalillee that are double storey. Once I remarked on how lucky they were to have a big house and everything. Nancy said not to, that being envious of someone else, wanting to be like them, was to be a second-best person and not the first-best person you can be by yourself. There’s also something we know about the Templetons, us being the town garbage collectors but Nancy says we don’t talk about what’s in people’s garbage because it humiliates us more than them. Now after what they’ve done I don’t care, so I’ll tell it. There’s always two or three Gilbey’s gin bottles in their garbage, which tells something about Mrs Dora Templeton she wouldn’t want anybody to know.
You’d think they’d bury the bottles in the backyard or something, though, being them, they’d probably explain it away by saying they have a lot of visitors. Not so easy to do if you think about it for a moment. Men don’t drink gin and all them white-glove set mostly drink dry sherry or sometimes brandy and dry, but often it’s only lemon squash. Two bottles of gin for entertainment purposes would last a year under those conditions. If you ask me, the Gilbey’s gin bottles are a dead give away. After all, we know pissedness (a Maloney word) when we see it. If I’m not mistaken, Dora Templeton drinks like a fish.
We’re all pretty nervous going up to the front door, though Nancy is in front and we’re all sort of protected by her massive body. She’s still wearing a pair of worn greenfelt slippers and, of course, her yellow-daisy dress. She raps on the door. They’ve got this brass lion’s head with a ring through its mouth and Nancy goes rap, rap, rap against the door hard as she can, then rap, rap, rap again and when there’s no response, mainly because she doesn’t wait long enough for anyone to have time to come, she shouts out, ‘Open up!’ and goes rap, rap, rap again, so you know she’s nervous as hell.
We know the Templetons must be home because the garage door is open and the pumpkin-carriage Holden is parked inside. Sarah’s beside me holding Colleen and she’s that mortified she’s got her head buried in Colleen’s blanket. The door opens and it’s Mr Templeton.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head in the direction of the interior. You can see from his tight-lipped expression that he’s not that thrilled at our appearance at his front door. He leads us into the lounge room, a big room, nearly as big as our cottage, with windows that look out over the lake. There’s no Dora Templeton in sight.
Probably upstairs pissed.
Philip Templeton indicates the sofa and various armchairs, which look brand new almost and which are enough to accommodate us all and then some. He still hasn’t said a word. When we’re seated, he nods at Sarah. ‘Sarah, Mrs Maloney,’ he says, the rest of us he ignores. ‘You know why we’re here,’ Nancy says.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Philip Templeton replies.
‘Where’s your boy? He ought to be here,’Nancy’s tone is not real polite.
‘I’m afraid he’s gone away, he’s with his uncle and aunt in Manildra in New South Wales.’
‘How very convenient,’ Nancy says, then she kind of sneers, ‘Your missus? She gone to Manilda too?’
‘Manildra,’ he corrects her. Then adds, ‘I’d prefer to sort this mess out on my own. Dora is upstairs with a migraine.’
‘Hmmph! That what they call it nowadays?’ Nancy quips.
‘I resent that, Mrs Maloney,’ Philip Templeton says, lifting his voice.
‘Righto, then. Now there’s something for you to resent. I have a resentment as well, Mr Templeton. Sarah tells me she told your boy a week ago about her pregnancy and you haven’t seen fit to get in touch with us.’
‘Well, ah . . . we had to see what our legal position was.’
‘Legal position?’ Nancy looks genuinely confused. ‘How about your moral position, Mr Templeton? Or don’t that come into it? Let’s not beat about the bush, your boy knocked up our Sarah, what are you going to do about it? He going to marry he
r or what?’
Philip Templeton actually laughs, ‘Whoa, steady on, not so fast, Mrs Maloney. It’s not quite that easy.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Well, for instance, we may need to explore other avenues, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t, Mr Templeton! What other avenues have you got in mind?’
‘Well, I’d rather not say, I mean with all your children here, it’s not something I’d like to discuss in front of them.’
‘We’re a family, Mr Templeton, a poor one and, you may think, not a very important one, but nevertheless a very loving one. We’re talking about Sarah. What are you saying, she shouldn’t be here?’
‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I don’t think she should be here.’
‘With us it’s one in, all in, we’ve got nothing to hide from the world nor from each other. You already know my husband is a drunk and a crim.’Nancy now stabs a finger at him, ‘So go on then, what other avenues?’
Nancy’s got on her courtroom manner, like she’d done the time me and Bozo got beat up at school by Brent Middleton and his gang and she had a go at Brent’s dad,
Hamish, and Vera Saggy Tits Forbes.
‘Well, adoption, for instance? We thought, that is Mrs Templeton and I, we . . .’
‘Don’t go any further! You expect my daughter to be traipsing around town for the next seven months with swollen ankles and her belly sticking out for all to see and, then, give away her baby when it comes and, after, simply get on with her life like nothing happened? Is that what you’re proposing?’
‘Well, it is a solution. I’m sorry but the female is the one who carries the baby, not much I can do about that, Mrs Maloney.’
‘I see, and what does the male who made it happen propose?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well, it seems he’s told my daughter often enough that he loves her,’ Nancy says, then repeats, ‘So, what does he propose?’
‘He’s set his mind on going to Duntroon.’
‘Duntroon? What’s that?’
‘It’s a military college in Canberra, he is to become an officer cadet.’
‘You mean the bloody little coward ran away, couldn’t face up to his responsibilities, is that it?’
‘No, that isn’t it! It’s been our plan for a long time. I’m not going to have him ruining his life because this has happened.’
‘It’s okay to ruin Sarah’s life, is it?’
‘I have no opinion on that. All I know is they don’t allow married cadets at Duntroon.’
‘As far as I know, there are no unmarried and pregnant students allowed in Medicine neither.’ ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘My daughter has applied for Medicine. She wants to be a doctor.’
‘A doctor?’ Philip Templeton seems genuinely puzzled,
‘But she’s a girl, you mean a nurse?’
‘No, a doctor! I’ll grant you she’s a girl and a very pretty one too, glad you noticed. What’s more she’s very bright, which is not what I hear about your son.’
‘I don’t know where all this is leading, Mrs Maloney.’
‘That should be perfectly obvious to you, Mr Templeton. If my daughter remains unmarried, her life is ruined. She can’t take up her scholarship, she’s permanently shamed as an unmarried mother even if she gives up the child for adoption. She says she loves your son and he has repeatedly told her that he loves her. And now she’s car rying his child. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘Love my son? They’re school children for God’s sake! They’re still wet behind the ears. What do they know about love, eh? Infatuation, yes, I can understand that. I’m told Murray is quite a catch. It’s a high-school romance, Mrs Maloney! Puppy love! Whether your girl says she loves him is neither here nor there. I’m not going to ruin my boy’s life because she saw her opportunity to compromise him and grabbed it with both hands.’
Nancy’s been pretty good so far, but she has her limits. ‘I beg your pardon!’ she shouts at Philip Templeton and starts to rise. ‘Say that again, you arsehole!’
Oh shit, Nancy’s going to slaughter him. He’s a big bloke but his gut spills over his belt and hangs halfway to his knees, he’s what Bozo would call ‘gone soft’, and Mike calls ‘solar perplexus’. Put Nancy’s great ham fist into that stomach and he’d take off out the picture window and across the lake at a thousand miles an hour like a balloon with the air escaping.
It is at this very moment that Dora Templeton walks into the room. She takes two faltering steps, steadying herself on the banister of the stairs, and already you can see she’s pissed. She’s got a fag sticking out the corner of her mouth in a very unladylike manner, one side of her hair is flat, sort of like she’s slept on it. Her skirt is unbuttoned and has slipped halfway down past her waist.
One time in the garbage we found this sort of stretched pink-rubber thing and Nancy said it’s called a step-in or a girdle and that women wear it around their bums and tummy to pretend they are not as fat as they are. It sort of squashes the fat bits in behind the rubber, like giant strips of Elastoplast wrapped round them. Well, she’s wearing one of them things and it’s sticking up out of where her skirt has slipped down but the fat’s escaped over the top of it so she’s got this spare bicycle tube of white flesh around her waist. Anyway, she looks pretty well rearranged, her lipstick is sort of smudged in one corner of her mouth and she’s squinting, one eye closed because the cigarette smoke is getting into it.
‘What’s going on, Philip?’ she calls out. ‘Who are these people? You didn’t tell me there were people coming.’ Then her eyes widen, ‘Oh, hello, Sarah!’And then she catches on about what’s happening, ‘Brought your little family, have you?’
‘Hello, Mrs Templeton,’ Sarah says, all meek and mild with her eyes turned downwards, not looking.
Nancy, who is halfway up on her way to punch Philip Templeton, falls back onto the lounge.
‘Go back upstairs, Dora,’ Mr Templeton orders.
‘No,’ Dora Templeton says firmly, ‘No, I don’t think so, Philip.’ The cigarette is wagging up and down at the corner of her mouth, her eyes still squinting from the smoke. ‘No, I don’t want to. I know what this is about. It’s about Murray, isn’t it? I told you we should have sent him to Geelong Grammar. Wouldn’t have happened then, would it?’ ‘Dora, will you please go back upstairs!’ Dora Templeton folds her arms and looks at her husband. ‘No,’ she says, then after a moment she uncouples her arms and takes the ciggie from her mouth. She gives her husband this little half-smile. ‘No, Philip, Murray is my son too, I have every right.’
‘Dora, I’d rather do this my way. Now please!’ You can see he’s cranky as hell but doesn’t want to show it.
He walks across to his wife and takes her by the elbow. But she pulls away, ‘No!’ she exclaims.
‘Dora, I have to insist, my dear. You’re not well.’
‘I’m purrfect-ly well!’ She staggers backwards and grabs a hold of the banister. Philip Templeton is quick for a big bloke and he grabs her by the back of the shoulders and tries to push her up the stairs. But she’s not having it and puts her foot against the second stair so he can’t budge her. He’s embarrassed, she’s making a fool of him, but he’s still trying to keep his temper.
‘Dora, I won’t ask you again,’ and gives her a shove. She loses her balance and goes down, clutching on to the third stair. She drops her cigarette and it hits the edge of the stairway and falls to the carpet below. ‘Let go of me!’ she screams. Her hair is hanging down over her eyes. He steps back, you can see he’s pretty angry and he’s gone red in the face and his jowls are shaking.
‘I’ve got something to say and I’m going to say it!’ she shouts up at him and then gets to her feet. She’s swaying a bit and her eyes are trying to focus. She looks up at Sarah again, who h
as Colleen still asleep in her lap and raises her arm and points. ‘Get rid of it! We don’t want your Catholic bastard, you hear! Get an abortion, you little slut!’
‘Dora!’ Philip Templeton roars, ‘Shut up!’ He tries to grab her arm but she’s too quick for him and pulls away.
‘Well, that’s what we decided, wasn’t it? We’ll pay to get rid of it!’ Turning back to us, she shouts, ‘We’ll pay for the abortion! Thought you could trap us, did ya? Thought you’d marry my son, did ya? Well, you can’t, see. We don’t want your Catholic filth in our family!’ Then she starts to laugh hysterically.
That’s when Phil Templeton hits her. It’s a slap, but it comes from a fair way back and lands across her mouth. Dora Templeton drops back to the carpet onto her knees, cupping both her hands across her mouth. ‘Now shut up, will you? Shut up, woman!’ Templeton yells out.
Dora Templeton’s hands come away from her mouth and I see that there’s a trickle of blood running out one corner. He’s slapped her pretty hard but it don’t shut her up, she starts up again, pointing at Sarah once more. ‘You Catholic bitch, you thought he’d be a good catch, didn’t ya? Well, I’m his mother and he’s mine, not yours! Go away, get out of my house!’
Philip Templeton pulls her to her feet and he’s leading her up the stairs and, this time, she’s not resisting him. ‘I need a drink, a little drinky-poo!’ she shouts, laughing. ‘Where’s my glass?’
Halfway up the stairs, Philip Templeton looks down at us. ‘I don’t want to see you here when I come back down. Come and see me in my office, we’ll sort something out.’
‘It’s not that easy, Mr Templeton,’ says Nancy, her voice now calm. Like what we’ve just seen happen has taken away her nerves.
‘If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll call the police,’ Mr Templeton says, ‘You’re trespassing in my house.’
‘Mr Templeton,’ Mike says suddenly, ‘you’re trespassing into my sister’s life.’
Templeton ignores Mike and then Nancy says, ‘You go ahead, Philip Templeton, call the police. We’ll be waiting down here for Sergeant Donovan to arrive.’
Four Fires Page 13