The Alphabet Sisters

by Monica McInerney

  “Yes, Bett, you were,” Lola said honestly.

  “Oh, Bett, you silly sausage,” Ellen said.

  The three of them burst out laughing. Bett turned to Lola. “Why didn’t you tell me when I sent you those photos, Lola?”

  “I didn’t want to embarrass you, Bett.”

  She clapped her hand to her forehead again. “Idiot. My one chance to uncover the mystery that is Lola Quinlan and what do I do? Go in the wrong direction completely. Sorry, Lola.” No wonder she hadn’t been that interested, trying not to hurt Bett’s feelings for turning up at the wrong house.

  “It doesn’t matter at all, Bett.” Time to change the subject, Lola thought. “So that brings you up to date, Ellie. Time now to concentrate on the beauty treatments.” She leaned back and shut her eyes, glad of the silence. She had always hated lying, even though sometimes it had to be done. She especially hated lying to Bett.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was Bett’s turn to walk Ellen to school the next day. She waited in front of the motel as Ellen ran over to say good-bye to Bumper the sheep. She’d already taken ten minutes to say good-bye to Lola and Carrie. It was probably as well Anna had left early that morning for her voice-over work in Sydney, or they would have been delayed another twenty minutes while she said good-bye to her.

  “Ready?” she called as the little girl ran over, her school bag bumping on her back, one sock already down at her shoes. She had been going to the new school for nearly two weeks, and the good-bye routine each morning seemed to take longer every day.

  Ellen nodded.

  “Sure? You don’t want to say good-bye to that magpie over there?”

  “Which magpie?”

  “Forget it,” Bett said, laughing as she reached and took her hand. It was a beautiful summer morning, the front gardens in the main road lush with growth, the air crisp, the sky already a deep blue. As they walked, Bett started singing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning.” “There you are, Ellen. A little taste of the Alphabet Sisters for you.”

  “Did you and my mum and Auntie Carrie really travel all around the country singing?”

  “We did, indeed. Your mum stood on the left, then me in the middle, then Carrie on the right. And we’d sing songs and sometimes we’d even dance a little bit.”

  “Do you still do it now?”

  Bett laughed at the mental image. “No, we’re probably a bit old for it, I think.”

  “And why did you stop?”

  “It’s a long story, Ellie. I’ll tell you one day.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to tell me? Mum says that sometimes, even when we’ve got plenty of time.”

  “It must run in the family.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we do things the same way. We might all look a bit the same, or like the same things, or be good at the same sorts of things.”

  “So I could be a singer, too?”

  “Would you like to be up on stage?”

  Ellen shook her head. “No. I don’t really like people looking at me.”

  “I don’t like it all that much either.” They walked on a little way, swinging their hands. Bett pointed out a tall gum tree with a fork in the middle. “See that tree up there, Ellie? Your mum got stuck up one like that one day when she was a bit older than you, when we were living in a different motel. We had to wait three hours before we could get her down. Dad, that’s your grandpa, had to call the fire engine in the end. And even then she’d get down only if they sounded the siren.”

  Ellen laughed. “Tell me another thing about my mum.”

  “She borrowed all of Lola’s makeup once, and dressed the three of us up thinking that no one would notice. Except we were all even younger than you, covered in lipstick and eye shadow.”

  “I borrowed Mum’s lipstick once. And Julie let me use some of hers once, too.”

  “Julie?”

  “Dad’s friend. She’s really nice to me.”

  “Your dad’s friend?”

  Ellen nodded. “She keeps his secrets, too.”

  Bett stopped. “Sorry, Ellie, who is Julie?”

  “She works with Dad. In his office.”

  Bett got it then. God, for a minute it had sounded like this Julie was Glenn’s girlfriend or something. “Julie is Glenn’s secretary, Ellie, is that what you mean?”

  Ellen nodded again. “He’s in Singapore with her at the moment. Mum doesn’t like it.”

  “Your dad being away? No, I guess she wouldn’t. She must be missing him.”

  “I miss him, too. But he rings me every night.”

  “Does he? Oh, that’s good,” Bett said, keeping her tone neutral. Ellen didn’t need to know what she thought of Glenn. They reached the school gates, and Bett knelt down in front of her niece, checking that her shoelaces were tied and the ribbon was straight in her hair.

  “There, you’re perfect. So, have you made lots of friends already?”

  Ellen looked at her feet. “Not yet.”

  Bett reached over and touched her cheek. She knew only too well that feeling of starting in a new school. “You will, Ellie. Don’t worry. These things just take time.”

  Ellen nodded.

  “Good girl. So have fun and I’ll see you after school, okay?” She gave her a big hug and watched as Ellen ran off to her classroom.

  It suited Bett to walk her niece to school and then get into work early. To be efficient, she told herself. To be hard at work by the time Daniel Hilder arrived, was the truth. Rebecca had picked up something and challenged her about it the day before.

  “We’re old friends, aren’t we?” Rebecca asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Can I ask you a favor, then?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go easy on Daniel Hilder for a while.”

  “What do you mean go easy?”

  “Be nicer to him.”

  “I am nice.”

  “Bett, you’re not. You go all stiff and weird. And he changes when you’re around as well. I don’t know what’s between the two of you, but he could do with a bit of support.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s his story not mine, but things are tough for him at home, let me say that.”

  “With his girlfriend?”

  “His girlfriend?”

  “He’s living with someone, isn’t he? Someone he met in Melbourne?”

  “No, they split up months ago, I think. He came back on his own. Bett, for a journalist, you’re not very up-to-date with the facts.” Rebecca was looking intently at her. “What’s going on? Did you and Hildie go out together years back? Before I got here? Have a messy breakup?”

  “No.” If she concentrated hard she could keep the blush from rising. “No, we didn’t. I was going out with Matthew when Daniel was here before.”

  “Ah yes, you and Matthew. I never did get to the bottom of all of that business either.” Rebecca’s phone rang. She grinned. “Saved by the bell, Bett. I’ll keep that interrogation for another time.”

  In Sydney that afternoon, Anna was speaking in a low, measured voice. “Take the condom carefully in one hand and slide it over the erect penis.”

  Bob’s voice came into her headphones. “Sorry, Anna. Can you do that last bit again? Problem with the tape there.”

  Anna stepped close to the mike again. “I suppose you think this is funny, Bob? How come we managed to do the entire section about childbirth without any problems but we’ve had to do this bit how many times now? Three?”

  “It’s that husky voice of yours. You know it drives me crazy.”

  “One more time, Bob. Or I’m reporting you and your faulty recording equipment to Actors’ Equity.”

  “Okay, tape rolling, vision coming up now.” A picture of a woman fitting a condom onto a model of a penis appeared on the small TV screen in front of her. Just a model, Anna noticed. It seemed these school educational videos weren’t that far advanced yet. She matched the script to the vis
uals, nearly knowing the words by heart she’d read them so many times that day. “Be sure to tie the end of the condom and ensure there is no spillage of the sperm. Carefully dispose of the used condom. Do not flush it down the toilet.” Do not hurl it out the window of a car, like most teenage boys of her acquaintance had done.

  Bob’s voice in the headphones again. “Perfect, thanks. Though, could we try that bit about oral sex one more time?”

  “Your mind is a sewer, Bob. One more crack like that and I’m ringing your wife and claiming sexual harassment.” She knew Bob’s wife well.

  He grinned through the glass at her. “Okay, half hour break, I think. You’re starting to sound a bit breathless, or perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.”

  “Very funny.”

  “See you back here at three for the joys of teenage pregnancy. How about that? I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.”

  Outside the sound booth, Anna made a coffee and took it onto the little balcony. She leaned her head against the warm brick wall and shut her eyes, surprised by a sudden longing for a cigarette. She’d given up eight years before, when she was trying to get pregnant, but even now she had the occasional urge. More so recently. She blamed it on all the tension at home. Once upon a time she would have dismissed anyone who said emotional problems had an effect on a person’s health. Now she wasn’t so sure. She was either tired all the time and wanting to sleep, or so wired she couldn’t sleep at all. And she was getting short of breath now and again. She’d been noticing it more in the past week or two.

  On her way to the airport in Adelaide the previous day she’d seen a sign for a medical clinic. No appointments necessary. On the spur of the moment she’d gone in. The surgery had been busy, four or five different doctors coming in and out. She’d almost convinced herself she was overreacting and had been about to leave when her name was called.

  The doctor was in his mid-sixties, she guessed. Red-faced, cheerful. She’d run through her symptoms. Feeling tired. Feeling short of breath. Loss of appetite.

  “Could you be pregnant?”

  She and Glenn hadn’t had sex in months. “No, no chance.”

  “I see your home address is Sydney? But you’re living here? Can you tell me a little of what’s going on in your life?”

  The doctor started smiling sympathetically midway through Anna’s reply. “I think we’ve found our answer. Your daughter’s accident alone could be the cause of this. You would have unleashed enough adrenaline that day to fuel you for a year. Do you get a tight feeling across your chest, as if it’s hard to breathe. Yes? And any nausea?”

  She nodded. “All of those things.”

  “It sounds to me like you are having panic attacks. Also known as anxiety attacks. It happens when a person is especially stressed. You subconsciously hold your breath, so then your lungs have to work twice as hard, and your heart as well, which explains the breathlessness. And loss of appetite is often another sign of stress.” He glanced at Anna. “You’re very thin already. You really do need to keep an eye on that, make time to eat.”

  He checked her blood pressure, her eyes, her tongue. All fine. “And your age is on your side, too. Thirty-four? Prime of life. Tell me, can you take life a bit easier? Slow down a little?”

  Anna laughed and decided not to mention the fact that she was in the middle of producing a full-scale amateur musical. “Not really. Not at the moment.”

  “Then can you spoil yourself a bit? Is there something you enjoy doing that you haven’t had time to do recently? Someone you like being with? A place you like going to? Somewhere that makes you feel good and relaxed and happy? Often that’s as good as any tablets or meditation exercises I could give you.”

  She made a follow-up appointment for a few weeks’ time. But the doctor was reassuring. “Slow down, Anna,” he said. “Don’t forget to enjoy life while you’re rushing through it.”

  Her booking agent, Roz, a calm, older woman, had been just as reassuring when they’d had lunch that day. “So let me get this straight, Anna. You’ve been feeling tired? A bit anxious? Breathless now and again? Now, why would that be, I wonder. It’s not as if you’ve got any stress in your life, is it? A daughter in and out of hospital for the past year. A husband in and out of his secretary’s bed, the dirty old dog. Don’t look so shocked. You know I’ve never liked Glenn. And now you’re back home with your two estranged sisters for the first time in years and directing an amateur musical at short notice. No, from my expert reading, I’d say you should be feeling light as a feather with all that going on.”

  Anna started to laugh. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  “I do put it like that. Anna, don’t worry. Of course you’re stressed. That doctor’s right. You just need a break and I hereby give you one. Once you get this school health project out of the way, of course. I want to get my commission out of you first.”

  Anna had laughed, feeling more relaxed immediately. She was enjoying the work, too. The only difficulty was the voice-overs weren’t being recorded in order, which was making things a little confusing. The young actors in the documentary had met at a disco, then swiftly had a child together, then had sex, and now the girl was about to have her first period. No wonder the poor things were so upset.

  A memory came to Anna out of the blue, of the day her own first period arrived. It was one afternoon in the summer school holidays, when she was thirteen, before they’d moved to the Clare Valley. She knew exactly what it was. She had been keeping a lookout for months, reading up on it all, supplementing the slap-dash school sex education program. She went to her mother in the kitchen, whispered the news in her ear, and was rewarded with five glorious minutes of her full attention. “Are you okay?” “Do you know what to do?” “Have you got any cramps?” There was even a brief hug, before the phone rang and something on the stove boiled, and her mother left her to it.

  Feeling on top of the world, she walked over to the manager’s house and into the bedroom she shared with both sisters.

  “I’m a woman now,” she said to Bett, who was lying on the bed reading.

  “What were you before, an iguana?” Bett answered, not looking up.

  “No, I mean I’ve got my first period, which means I am physically officially a woman.”

  “You’re disgusting. I don’t want to know about it.”

  “What’s disgusting? It’s perfectly natural. You’ll be next.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “What? You’re going to stop it happening, are you? Take boy pills? Start playing football perhaps? Hang upside down …” Anna poked Bett with her foot.

  Bett swiped at her. “I mean it. I’m not interested. Bleuch.” She gave a shiver of disgust.

  Anna looked at herself in the mirror, staring at her face, convinced that, yes, she even looked different. Not exactly more mature, but more knowing. As one of the books had said, she was now privy to one of the great female secrets of the universe. She smoothed her hair, and looked at Bett in the reflection. “Apparently once you and Carrie get your periods there’s every chance we will all start having them at the same time.”

  Bett was now lying on her stomach, face buried in her pillow. “Shut up, shut up.”

  Anna hadn’t realized it was going to be this much fun. “It’s to do with the moon,” she said, coming over to her, leaning in close. “All of our wombs are linked, with the sky and the sea, in tune with nature. The three of us will be able to dance naked, creatures of fertility and womanhood. Once a month under the moon.”

  “Shut up. I’m not listening. You’re disgusting.”

  “You’re just jealous.”

  “Jealous of what?” Carrie came into the room.

  “Of me. Because, young Caroline, I, Anna Mary Quinlan, officially became a woman today. I’m having my first period.”

  “Really? Cool. I can’t wait. Are you using tampons or those pad things?”

  Bett had groaned and covered her face with her pillow. “Y
ou’re both disgusting.”

  Twenty years later, the memory still made Anna laugh. Bett had always been so funny about anything to do with becoming a woman, much to her and Carrie’s entertainment. So easy to tease, too, about boys or sex or relationships. She guiltily remembered the time she and Carrie had been asked to the school social, but Bett hadn’t. She should have sympathized more, Anna thought now, been supportive. But she’d been so excited at her own date, getting ready, applying makeup, that she hadn’t noticed how forlorn Bett was. She and Carrie went off in one car, bright, dressed-up, not even worrying about Bett, who had chosen to stay home with Lola. Anna felt a ripple of shame, thinking of how she would feel if Ellen wasn’t asked out. It must have been hard for Bett sometimes—the two of them fighting off attention from boys, but not Bett. She remembered another time she and Carrie were getting ready to go out. Bett had been reading, pretending not to be watching, not to be interested. Carrie, with the know-all confidence of a thirteen-year-old, had taken it upon herself to give Bett some advice. “You could look quite nice if you did something with your hair. And I can teach you how to put on makeup if you want me to.”

  Anna had seen the flash of anger, just before Bett lifted up her book. “I don’t want your help.”

  “Well, don’t blame me if you never get asked out,” Carrie said before flouncing out.

  How could they have been so cruel? Anna wondered. That hadn’t been the only time, either. Was it too late to apologize now? Surely it was never too late. She had a sudden urge to ring Bett, to say sorry for everything, not just those awful teenage years, but for all they had said to each other that night of the fight. She took out her mobile and switched it on. She’d had it turned off during the recording. It beeped, telling her she had two messages. The apology to Bett was forgotten as she listened to the first one.

  “Anna, hello, this is Mrs. Harold from Ellen’s school. Would you please be able to come and collect Ellen? She’s very upset, and I think it’s best if she goes home for the rest of the day. Can you call me as soon as possible?”