*
From: “Tin Lid”
Hey Dad, I’m hoping you get this message before you visit the Grimsons this eve.
Don’t worry about your ‘stuff-up’. I’m stoked there are more people who know I’m around.
Maybe you should pull Mum aside before you leave, let her know you let it slip to your friends. You gave the silent thing a shot, but when something is very, VERY much planned and very, VERY much wanted it’s hard to be patient, yeah?
I think she’ll totally understand.
*
Adam closed the fi le and pincer-gripped the bridge of his nose.
“I think she’ll have my guts for garters, B,” he murmured.
*
The front door of ‘Coola Vista’s apartment number 10 opened before the doorbell had completed its third chime.
“Hi! How are you? Come in, come in!”
“Wow!” exclaimed Maddy. “Greeted by both hosts. Now there’s hospitality, hey Adam?”
Adam glared at each host in turn. “Emphasis on the
‘hospital’.”
“Sit down on the couch, groovers, and Boyd will get us some drinks. What would you like Maddy? Wine? Bacardi Breezer?”
“Just water would be fi ne, Jen.”
“Wise choice—you haven’t been feeling the best lately,
70
Staying Mum
have you. Tummy bug and such. For you, Ad?”
“Double scotch on the rocks.”
“Mmm…yes, that sounds delish. I’ll have one of those as well, Boyd, my darling.”
“Jenna, you should probably slow down for a bit.”
Jenna waved airily in the direction of the kitchen, then fl opped down onto the couch, between the O’Dohertys.
“So,” she said clamping a hand on each adjacent thigh,
“How’s the weather?”
“Stable,” hinted Adam. “For the moment.”
“John Schluter reckoned there would be a storm tonight,”
added Maddy.
“Really?”
“Could be a strong one, he said.”
“Ah, but they get it wrong so often don’t they? John Schlooper and the rest of these guys probably don’t know anything at all. And they should admit it! Like me! I don’t know anything at all! Not a thing!”
“About the weather?” enquired Adam.
“About anything! I don’t know anything about anything, guys. I have no knowledge of any matter that might be of any consequence. To anything.”
Boyd emerged from the kitchen and distributed the drinks. Jenna lifted her scotch (and soda) skyward, splashing the curtains in the process.
“A toast…to nothing in particular!”
*
From: “Adam O’Doherty”
…It got worse.
By the end of the fi rst hour, she was responding to everything Maddy said with a tilt of the head and a saccharine-laced ‘ohhhh’. Stolen glances in the direction of Maddy’s mid-section became lingering looks, then outright ogles. To ward off suspicion, Boyd would prise the glass from her hand, take her by the elbow and guide her
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e Umbilical Word
into the kitchen under the pretext of ‘checking the chook’ (I think our Chicken Tikka Masala had higher viewer ratings than ‘The Bachelorette’). The one occasion babies/births/related topics were overtly raised—for Almighty knows what reason, B, your mother felt compelled to discuss the deadly protective instincts of the female hippopotamus—Jay-Jay downed her after-dinner glass of port in one swig, then disappeared to the toilet for ten minutes.
It was tantamount to torture. And in the interests of saving my teaching colleague from a rubber room, I intended to end the suffering and make it an early night.
Early night?
Yes.
An end to the suffering?
No %#$@* chance…
*
BAP BAP BAP BAP
Adam ceased dealing the ‘Luxor Hotel’ deck of cards in his hands. He glared at Boyd.
“That wasn’t thunder was it.”
“No.”
“That was the door.”
The concerned host shrugged and nodded. Adam directed an accusing eye toward Jenna.
“Probably Jehovah’s Witneshesh,” she replied, several cards falling from her grasp as she crossed her heart. “This shtorm’s gunna be the end of the world!”
Boyd opened the door. Carsmair State High’s three student teachers crossed the threshold. Glittery bowler hats were perched on their heads. Nasally party-favours lunged back and forth from their lips. A homemade banner that read
‘GREAT STUFF…YOU’RE UP THE DUFF!!!’ extended the length of their accumulated hipster belt-lines. A dazed Jenna wandered in and around the team, looking them up and down, inspecting them like a shell-shocked drill sergeant.
“Lisha, weren’t you guysh going to Café Neon tonight?”
Lisa threw a streamer to indicate the affi rmative.
72
Staying Mum
“This ishn’t Café Neon, darling!”
Lisa craned her neck. “Where’s your wife, Adam?”
Adam pointed a limp fi nger in the direction of the bathroom then continued fl icking cards at the slowly rotating ceiling fan. Electrical disturbance prompted the corner lamp to wink. Jenna cradled Lisa’s face in her hands.
“Why are you here?”
“You said, ‘Have a drink with us this evening’.”
“For ush! For ush!” Jenna lurched toward the table, palms pressed together. “I shaid ‘for ush’, Adam! I shwear!”
Adam extracted the ‘Joker’ from the remaining deck and slapped it against his forehead.
“I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake. You have to go, girls,”
said Boyd, attempting to herd the gate crashing trio toward the exit. “Here’s a brolly and some money for a cab. There’s a rank just outside the-”
“Should I have brought two Vienettas for dessert?”
Five pairs of eyes crowded the surprise party’s latecomer.
Maddy preferred to focus on Adam. He lay face down on the table, surrounded by clubs and spades. Outside, the heavens gave way. Horizontal waves of rain rattled the louver window frames.
Jenna plucked the party favour from Lisa’s mouth and sat down in the chair next to Adam.
“Shecret’s out I guess, Ad. Time for the truth.”
She took up the nearest alcoholic vessel—Boyd’s half-full Ruski—and patted her stomach.
“I’m with child,” she said and downed the remaining vodka mix. “To my hushband,” she added.
The pendulum of attention now swung toward the host.
The student teachers handed their cab money back. Maddy stood slightly hunched, leaning to the left, face puckered with serious intent. Were the truth to be hiding behind Boyd, she would not let the former footballer’s ample frame provide indefi nite asylum. Adam lifted his head from the table, mouth agape, eyes blinking. Was I just struck by lightning?
he thought.
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Boyd scanned each of his observers then gave an exaggerated wipe of his forehead.
“Thank Christ for that, hey?” he said. “Now Jen and I can stop pretending.”
He peeled the Joker off Adam’s brow and headed for the toilet. He would not be seen for ten minutes.
*
From: “Adam O’Doherty”
…Mercifully, follow-up interrogation of the Grimsons was thwarted—
the thunderstorm (thank your boss for me) brought an abrupt end to the power supply and the proceedings. Just prior to leaving, I cornered Boyd while he was on
hold with Energex…
*
“You reckon Jay-Jay’s little stunt worked?”
“Only if Maddy is taking hallucinogens.”
“How are you going to get out of it?”
“Fess up.”
“That might not be advisable at this point in time.”
Boyd nodded. “Alright, Jen and I had better make the most of this blackout then.”
*
From: “Adam O’Doherty”
…I really don’t know whether Mum bought any of it, B. She offered her congratulations to the ‘lucky’ couple (likewise three sheepish student teachers), but didn’t explore further. And on the way home she seemed to bounce between acceptance –
“We’ll have to buy them a gift…”
– and incredulity:
74
Staying Mum
“She drank an awful lot for someone who is pregnant.”
Fooled? Not fooled? No idea.
Out of all this mess, though, some positive news: Mum has decided to fi nally tell! She informed me twenty minutes ago, just before going to bed. And while it’s unlikely to involve booze, banners and bald-faced lies, it will be soon. Sunday to be precise, at the folks’ place.
You little %#$@* beauty.
75
Staying Mum
6
M addy wriggled into a more comfy couch groove then held her hands up, thumb to fi ngers, in front of her face. The right was gloved in a navy blue Holeproof quarter sock, the left wore a Razzamatazz knee-high. She eyeballed each puppet before commencing:
“Reg and Eileen—there’s something we should…
hmmm…Adam and I have something to say…no no…Guess what? We’ve got the very thing you’ve been waiting for!…
Eurgh! Okay—Adam and I are expecting our fi rst baby…as distinct from our twenty-fi rst.”
She giggled and engaged the ceiling she now knew like an old school friend. Reg and Eileen, despite the absence of any sewn on button eyes, stared at each other then back at their daughter-in-law.
“Well at least I won’t be saying I am ‘with child’!”
Maddy peeled off the puppets and wound them into a single ball. She tossed it at the potted aloe vera plant acting as a stop for the French doors. The muted television countered the harsh dismissal with Ricki Lake’s bold, bouncing by-line of the day: ‘Yo Girlfriend! Get wit your parents-in-law and get some RESPECT!’
“I could always leave it up to Daddy, Kiddo,” she said, massaging her abdomen. “He’s been itching to tell since we found out about you. And they are his parents after all. I’m sure he will fi nd the right words for the occasion.”
*
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“I have no absolutely no idea what to say.”
Dilip applauded the fi nal fi nisher’s touch in the Under 15
Boys’ backstroke then fl ipped up the sunglasses attachment of his spectacles.
“A writer without words—that is, indeed, a crisis.”
“I need help.”
“Perhaps you should request our Ms Grimson’s presence at the gathering.”
Adam, hand held over his forehead to shield the February glare, scanned the terraces for his saviour. He found her standing at the head of the Cosgrove cheer squad, hips waggling, pom-poms fl ailing, in full voice with what Adam estimated to be her four-hundredth war cry of the Carsmair inter-house swimming carnival.
“A woman in such a delicate condition—I don’t think I want to trouble her a second time.”
“Of course.”
Adam pulled his borrowed Akubra lower. “God, I hate these sports days. When’s this supposed to fi nish?”
“In about fi fteen minutes,” replied Dilip, checking his watch. “The teachers’ relay is the fi nal event.”
“The ‘Cardiac Crawl’, hey? Is The Sarge going round again?”
“Oh yes. He is such a fi t fellow for his age. There’s a rumour circulating that he’s staying in shape in case they bring back conscription.”
“Wouldn’t put it past this PM.”
“And did you know Cal’s swimming this year, too?”
“You’re joking.”
“It’s true, my friend. First time in twenty years apparently.
He broke the news at lunchtime. He claimed he was going to dive in and stay there. Said his daughter was driving him to it.”
“She still going through with the wedding to the internet guy then?”
Dilip assured a nearby student that the school swimming carnival was not an appropriate forum for the discussion
78
Staying Mum
of breasts as fl oatation aids then shook his head. “The engagement’s off. According to Cal, the marriage would’ve interfered with her new career as a pole dancer.”
“Is that right?”
The gun fi red, commanding the fi nal bank of student competitors to forget about the early bus and have one last thrash in the water / chlorine / unidentifi ables’ mix. An announcement followed over the PA:
“Would all the brave teachers involved in the staff relay make your way down to the marshalling area, please..”
Whoops and whistles echoed across the grandstands. Jokes about gut sizes and sock tans and questionable swimming pedigrees meandered through a sardined, sunburnt student population. The non-participating staff, hamstrung by their own similar but unpublicised jibes, feigned ignorance.
“Dee, I don’t even know how I’m going to tell Mum and Dad, let alone what I’ll tell them,” declared Adam. “They’ve been wanting this for so long…I’m afraid they’ll have a stroke if I tell them point blank!”
Dilip gave a wave of encouragement to the History department squad. “Perhaps it would be wisest to let them be your cue.”
“How so?”
“You have said they are always asking when you are going to give them a grandchild. This time around you will have the perfect answer!”
“It’s that easy, is it?”
“We have a saying in India: ‘There is nothing more obvious than the sunlight upon your face’.”
Adam crinkled his nose. “I still think they might keel over.”
“My friend, don’t underestimate the resiliency of parents.
Having children shows you how to take one on the chin and stay standing. You become Muhammad Ali!”
The teachers moved onto the blocks. Callum Morecroft, wearing an aged pair of purple Speedos, responded to the call of ‘Take your mark’ by placing his hands on his hips.
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e Umbilical Word
BANG!
The veteran of Carsmair belly-fl opped into the water and slipped from sight. After several seconds, the ripples began to smooth. The lane ropes’ bounce became a diminishing tremor. Colleagues in the adjoining lanes heaved and cleaved through the wash, unprepared to go back to assist, perhaps fearful that if they stopped they too might end up on the bottom of the pool.
The concerned crowd shifted to the edge of their seats.
The designated lifesaver—Mr Barton, a junior manual arts teacher—fi dgeted, attempting to recall his fi rst aid ABC.
Then, just when it seemed to Adam that the early bus might require a siren and fl ashing lights, Cal Morecroft surfaced and commenced a slow but purposeful sidestroke that would carry him the required distance.
“You become Ian Thorpe, too, I guess,” remarked Dilip.
*
From: “Adam O’Doherty”
evens—the bar
3/1—the barbecue
4/1—the other barbecue
5/1—adjacent to Woody’s food bo
wl
8/1—the new caravan we must inspect every time we go over there 10/1—underneath the poster of the 1987 Queensland State of Origin team
20/1—the spa
100/1—the trampoline
One more sleep, B. I truly believe revealing you to the world at last will be good for all concerned.
80
Staying Mum
*
From: “Tin Lid”
*
Adam watched his father ease the ‘Wally Lewis Testimonial’
port from the display shelf and place it on the bar. It was the third public appearance of the venerated Immortal’s vintage in the last fi ve years—the previous occasions being last year’s unexpected blow-in from a distant Irish cousin and the Y2K ‘New Year’s Rockin’ Eve’.
“Did you say you’ve got great news, Dad?”
Reg blew the dust off the crafted wooden box and wiped the branded image of the King’s face with a damp Chux.
“Not me pur-say. Michelle.”
“Shelley?”
“She’s got news good enough for ten Big Pineapple pictures, I kid you not!”
“That’s pretty good.”
“Bloody oath.”
“What’s, um…what’s it about?”
“Nah-ah. She’s going to ring later to tell you and Madeline in person. Until then, my lips are---” he trowelled his mouth,
“---Spakfi lla.”
Adam bit his bottom lip and looked around. “You’re certainly pumped up about this.”
“I’m fi t to burst, son! Might have to have an extra one of Doctor Long’s blood pressure pills before the day’s out!”
“No doubt.”
As Reg exited to rejoin the game of ‘Balderdash’ taking place on the back deck, Adam noted O’Doherty Senior’s choice of perambulation: a half-shuffl e, half-jog with a heel click thrown in for good measure.
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“Stay on the blocks for a little while longer, Thorpey,” he muttered, replacing the palm cards in his top pocket.
*
“She’s pregnant!”
Adam stared at his ebullient wife with a mixture of incredulity and shock.
“Pardon?”
“Your sister’s pregnant, Adam! It’s obvious!”
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