by Lyz Russo
The Family Pool
by Lyz Russo
© Copyright: Lyz Russo, 2011
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This story is a work of fiction. All apparent resemblances to real people or situations are purely incidental.
The Family Pool
I
Mary Adams gazed at her fairly new husband with starry eyes. "That is so totally sweet of your family!"
"Well, Babe," replied John, who hadn't yet got used to addressing his wife by her given name, "we are not wealthy for nothing. We are the Adams. If my uncle chooses to include us in the family pool, that is surely a fringe benefit of marrying me."
Mary smiled and said nothing. There was nothing "fringe" about marrying John! He was larger-than-life, in everything he did - even in the concepts of his business, which, alas, was still in its beginning stages, but promised to grow huge, like everything his family did.
John turned the key in the lock of the apartment, and carried his young wife over the threshold. She gaped at the interior with her mouth open.
The apartment was huge, and fitted with luxury. Stained rosewood furniture graced the dining room which was complete with a multi-globed candelabra hanging over the enormous dining table. The lead glass of the crystal cupboard revealed finest cut crystal glasses - possibly Waterford. Past the dining room a spacious lounge greeted them, with deep leather sofas and plush woollen carpet. John drew back the curtains by remote control, and a panoramic view spread out before them, hills undulating away into the misty distance.
"The way it works," explained John, his eyes trained on the valley below, "is that the youngest couple gets this apartment. It is entry level. There is no guarantee how long we will be here though. It all depends on when space becomes available. My uncle will let us know, don't worry!"
Mary was still shaking her head in amazement. "That is so sweet of him!"
"It has been the system for five generations now," said John smugly.
Mary moved into the kitchen, which was ultra-modern and fully equipped with every luxury a woman could wish for, to make her life easier. She found the espresso-maker and made herself and John each a hot cup.
"By the way," said John, "we are invited to the Residence for Christmas dinner."
Mary smiled, a bit overwhelmed. She had never yet celebrated Christmas away from her parents; and now that only her father was left, she was reluctant to leave him alone at Christmas. But one could surely not turn down such an invitation from a man who had just set them up so generously! She would organize something with her father.
"Yes, dear," she found herself saying. It was the surroundings.
II
Mary Adams peered over her glass of orange juice at the gathered clan. Which was the best word she could think of to describe them. There were a lot of Adams'; she had been introduced until her head spun and now she couldn't remember a single name.
A Christmas buffet was spread out on the white wrought-iron garden tables that graced the spacious verandah. Finest gammon-and-cranberry-sauce, thinly sliced turkey and tongue was presented on Wedgwood bone china, which Mary's mother-in-law, Eleanor, was quick to give her a guided tour on. She had also jumped ahead with guiding Mary through the mansion - at least the parts that were open to guests - so that the poor girl wouldn't get lost!
The house was nothing short of mindboggling. Rooms with a purpose dwelt without disputes next to rooms that were merely there to provide more space and beauty. Mary, who had an eye for art, had spotted some of the magnificent paintings that were displayed; whereupon she received an interesting history on each, and its artist. Though many were contemporary and quite a few from within the family, there were ancient masters amongst them - a Vermegeren here, a Spitzweg there.
The bad conscience about leaving her father to his own devices on Christmas Day had been dissipated by himself. She had at first tried to introduce the idea of bringing her father along; to which John's reaction had been utmost horror. John got on well with her father; but he made it clear that the family would not take well to the less-than-well-off old gentleman. Mary had then tried to arrange that they'd spend the morning at her father's, and only arrive at Adams' in the afternoon. But this too, John had dismissed. They were invited for the whole day, and what Uncle Daniel decreed, was what was done.
Mary, extremely unhappy about this, had told her father all. And he had sat her down and told her that she needed to go; she had married into high society and needed to take her obligations very seriously, especially in the light of what had been given to them.
"You can tell me all about it when you come back," he had encouraged with a smile. "Come here afterwards, no matter what time, and we'll have some port and Christmas music."
She had once again understood how privileged she was to have him for a father.
Now she was gazing at the many sleek, tanned bodies in swimsuits having a great time in the pool, and trying to remember at least some of the names that went with the faces.
Someone knocked a teaspoon against a glass; it chimed brightly, bringing the whole family to attention.
"Uncle wants to make his speech," announced one of the many cousins of John, a handsome-looking young fellow with mid-brown hair and mischievous eyes. Mary tried to remember whether his name was Peter.
"Does everyone have champagne?" asked Uncle Daniel, sweeping a look around the gathered clan and noting with a frown the orange juice in Mary's hand. "Eleanor, do top her up, won't you?"
Eleanor approached with the Moët and Chandon and a clean glass for Mary.
"I'll stick with orange juice, thanks," said Mary in a hushed voice.
"Nonsense, dear, you'll have some champagne with us!"
"I'd really rather not," insisted Mary.
"You must, my dear! The whole clan always toasts with champagne, it would be unthinkable for someone to toast with juice!"
"But - I mustn't," protested Mary. "I can't. Doctor's orders!"
Eleanor eyed her with suspicion. "You're not a recovering alcoholic, are you, my dear?"
"No," said Mary, aware of the whole clan's attention on her.
"Then why on Earth should you not have champagne with us?"
"Because I'm pregnant," blurted Mary.
She hated having to disclose it before the whole gathered clan; more so because she had only confirmed it yesterday and had been saving up telling John, for a quiet moment. Now he wasn't the first to hear about it.
She hated the effect of her words even more.
It was as though a chill rippled through the whole gathered Adams clan; as though she'd announced that she had bubonic plague or were an escaped psychopath. Everyone stared at her. "Oh my G-d," said Eleanor, shocked, all colour draining from her face. "Already?"
Mary scowled. What on Earth was wrong with being pregnant? She was a married woman; she had a stable job, and they had just been given a roof over their heads that was, while not strictly a survival necessity as she had rented an apartment before without anyone's help, still a huge boost in living circumstances.
Uncle Daniel was the first to recover his posture. He raised his glass and announced jovially: "Well, congratulations, Mary, John! Let's hope it's a son! If it is, call him Daniel! I'd like to propose a toast to our new addition!"
The congregated Adams' toasted, laughed and drank; but Mary detected horrified whispers and shocked expressions wherever she turned.
"We'll have to do something!" - "This is disastrous!" - "Just shows you, marry down and t
hat's what you get!" - "It's not yet time!"
She was suddenly extremely nauseous. She excused herself and headed for the door inside, to find the bathrooms. Just as she passed the great glass sliding door to the inside, a brown, skinny claw shot out and grabbed her by the arm. She stared down into an ancient, sun-browned face. Shrewd green eyes were narrowed at her. Everything about this old woman reminded Mary of a crow.
"Get out of here," hissed the old lady. "As fast as you can go! Get away!" And the claw-like hand released her.
Mary ran.
*
John caught up with her in the car park. He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders.
"What the hell were you doing? Announcing that to everyone and then running away?" One glance at her face softened him and he hugged her tightly. "Don't be scared! They can be stuck-up at times, but they are basically a good family. Uncle Daniel is going to look for a larger place for us."
"But - but - that apartment is huge! It has three bedrooms!"
John shook his head. "That's not how it works. Don't worry. All will be taken care of."
Mary finally found her balance. "John, it's not right. I don't need your family's help! I do appreciate it, that is a beautiful apartment, but I can pay my own way, after all I earn a salary. I can pay our way easily after the baby is born! It doesn't matter that your business isn't yielding income yet."
"Profit," corrected John. "There is income, only no profit yet. And in fact you'll stop working. No Adams wife has ever had to work while raising her children."
"That's ridiculous," said Mary. "We need the income."
"We'll cope. We're not sinking into the gutter," decreed John. And that was that.
As though working for one's living were the gutter! Mary gnashed her teeth as she allowed him to lead her back to that uncomfortable party.
III
Mary Adams stroked over her rounded belly as she stared out of the window. Three more months, and she'd be a mother... and she had no idea how she was going to play that. She and John were at complete loggerheads about the work issue. She was pretending to go along with his plan for now, for the sake of peace and ohm for her little one - whom she had decided to call Donovan, but she also knew that this would cause further friction. Uncle Daniel had imposed his will upon her and John to name her son after him. But there was no way. Donovan had been the name of her father's father. Her family's practically sacred ancestor. Money would not succeed in taking that right away from her!
She was not going to relinquish her job! And be completely at Money's mercy? She had begun to think of John's family as "Money" as this was the driving force behind every decision. The control was complete. John had convinced her early on to sell her trusty "bullfrog" VW and instead take on a huge bank loan - in his name - so she could drive a chique little BMW. He knew that this was as far as he could push her where sports cars were concerned; even the BMW was too much, as the first service cost her more than she could comfortably accommodate. She gnashed her teeth and paid up and wished she hadn't sold her Buggy. Sure, the car was beautiful and sleek and drove like a dream, instead of roaring along like a badly tuned lawnmower; but it wasn't worth sacrificing buying the beautiful crib she'd had her heart set on for little Donny. Her salary couldn't accommodate such a car. And if she gave up her income, her last bit of power of choice would be taken away. John would make every last decision - or rather, Money would. Uncle Daniel; Eleanor; Aunt Tiara.
There had been something about that funeral today that wouldn't let her go. It had been the Crow - the old lady with the brown, claw-like arthritic hands that had warned her to leave the family, back at Christmas. Had she known back then that she was riddled with cancer? Probably, thought Mary. The vision of those two mad eyes boring into hers, wouldn't let go of her. "Get out, run," the Crow had screeched at her. Had it been an attempt to chase her off - or a piece of advice?
The door opened quietly, and John moved up behind her. His large, gentle hand found its place on her shoulder.
"You feeling alright, Babe?"
Mary smiled. This way, she could deal with him. When he was like this, she could understand him.
"Just thinking about things," she replied, leaning back against him. "And you? You knew Suzine a long time, I'm sure. Are you coping?"
"Life goes on," said John calmly. She looked up at him. His face was calm. "Mary, she's in a better place, you have to believe that. I spoke to Uncle Daniel."
"He must be pretty cut up," commented Mary. "She was his cousin, wasn't she?"
"Step-aunt," said John. "Yes, he's pretty sad about her passing. Tragic, so sudden."
"She smoked a lot?"
"That's the strange thing," said John. "She didn't smoke at all. Never in her life, apparently. As I said, I spoke to Uncle."
She realized he was trying to tell her something different.
"What does Uncle say, John?"
"We're getting the house that Jenny and her family were in."
Mary blinked. "What?"
"You heard what I said."
She glanced about the luxurious apartment. "But why? Does someone need the apartment?"
"There's always someone who needs the apartment," replied John with a smile. "That's not the point. We're moving up, Baby! The house has four bedrooms; no pool, that is very important; a beautiful playroom for children; a library - but I have to add, Babes, don't bring too many of your books, the library is already stocked... it has everything your heart can desire when you raise small children. What do you say to that?"
She swallowed a few bubbles before asking, "but what about Jenny and her family? Where are they going?"
"They're getting the mansion in White River. The one Pats was in? Pats and her lot are taking over from Peter, and Peter and his wife are moving into Aunt Suzine's house. Their children are all at college now, they don't need all that much space - anyway it's a beautiful house."
Mary blinked a few times, stared at the rolling hills outside - a view she would miss, she knew - and got up to make John some coffee and herself some Rooibos tea. By the time the tea and coffee were ready, she had collected herself.
"All this gets decided on, in the wake of Aunt Suzine's funeral?"
"It's all in the system, Baberoo. It's how this family works. There are no disputes over inheritances; everyone is provided for. Generously."
Communism, cried her rattled mind, and, Patriarchy. She knew that moment that she had to fight for more freedom.
But something much deeper and more sinister reared its head that night when she slept... and the haunting eyes and claws of the Crow followed her through her dreams, grabbing at her, screeching at her: "I told you to get out!"
IV
The library wasn't stocked, thought Mary as she trailed her hand across the books. It was stacked. She'd had to put most of her own treasured books into boxes and store them at her dad's house - who had been glad to hold onto them for her and gladder to see her. It had been such a busy seven months; she'd hardly had time to visit. She worked long hours overtime every day in the hope of saving up enough to buy those few choice baby items she had her heart set on.
The nursery that came with this house left very little to add. It was painted white; and decorated in soft pastel colours, neither for boys nor for girls, but a fair mix. Somehow it all blended together though to create a perfect, still atmosphere that was necessary for a baby's peace of mind.
Mary's hands itched to fill the place with bright colourful items. Reds, blues. Boy stuff. Donny was a restless youngster; he tumbled and turned inside her, and played football with her bladder. She knew he was going to be a dynamic, active boy.
John was, as so very often in the last time, visiting Uncle Daniel. Mary was beginning to wonder if he were married to his uncle. She had supper ready on the stove, and the table set beautifully with all the highly priced tableware of t
his house; and that had taken some doing, as she was exhausted after the long day at work! And now the food was slowly getting overcooked, the salad was wilting and all the alcohol was escaping from John's wine, and the bubbles from her soda.
Her finger stopped on a huge, hard-cover volume with gold-embossed lettering: the Adams genealogy. She had never been "overcome" by curiosity before but right now the urge to take it out and look was too strong to resist. She couldn't really understand why she felt as though the whole congregated portraitship of Adams' lining the library's walls between the shelves was frowning at her for trying to learn more about them. She had a right; she'd married an Adams and she carried an Adams! She tugged at the huge book and it slid out of the shelf with some resistance. Once it was in her arms it was heavy; too heavy to hold in one hand, nearly too heavy to lift for a pregnant woman. She carried it to the antique study desk and placed it on the wooden surface, tracing the gold lettering with her finger. And then she carefully opened the book.
If she had expected bats to fly out of it, or a monstrous hand grabbing her, she was to be surprised. In the front of the book there were two scribbled notes; one on thin, age-yellowed paper with faded ink; and one was just a scrap of folded paper that looked fairly recent.
She looked at the older note first. She could hardly decipher the flowing cursive hand. Small u's had little lines over them to distinguish them from n's. The small r looked like nothing at all, just a wavy line. She was getting there.
The signature surprised her the most. "Suzine Adams". The Crow. She had left a note for posterity? Mary Adams read.
"This clan is like a prison. Every move you make is decided by the High Command. Perhaps the comfort of the physical wealth suits some ladies, but I - need more freedom. I would love to sell my paintings, have them appreciated by the public; get some feedback that I'm any good. But no - the Clan will not permit it. My own principles stop me from leaving my husband Thomas, who has a bad case of clan, but I feel as though there is nobody I can confide in, nobody to share my concerns. I am alone, so very alone! - Suzine Adams."