Читать книгу Goodbye Lullaby - Jan Murray - Страница 17

–8–

Goodna (Brisbane) 1950

Miki’s attitude was starting to bug her. ‘Are we going to do it or aren’t we?’ Jude yelled from the bathroom. She wished Mik would make up her mind, one way or the other. But that was Miki for you, she reasoned. Always looking at things a hundred times before she made up her mind about anything. Just do it, was her way. Just do it!

‘It’s a mortal sin,’ came the sulky reply from the lounge room.

God, Miki! She’d already stepped out of her own uniform and had been waiting ages for Miki to get in here and do likewise. They were wagging school today, at home with the blinds drawn and the doors locked. A deadlock on the kitchen door. Unlike Miki’s mum whose job was only a part-time one, Poppy worked five and a half days a week at the frock shop.

‘Hey, what gives?’ she said, coming into the darkened room, seeing Miki standing where she had left her minutes ago and still holding the wedding photo––Adele in a pretty floral dress and Monty in his US Marine Corp uniform. She took it from Miki’s hands and replaced it on the sideboard. ‘The sooner we start, the sooner––’

‘She must have been something special, your mum,’ said Miki, staring down at the framed photograph in her hand.

‘Why? Because a Yank was prepared to marry her?’

‘Because he was prepared to cop her child as part of the deal.'

‘Get out. I was gorgeous. Look at this.’ She thrust another picture at Miki, this time it was a snapshot of the three Brenners. She treasured this rare family photograph. Adele and Monty and her, the child between them, both adults gripping one of her hands and smiling at the camera. She remembered the day it was snapped, a photo taken in Gregory Terrace during the war. The moment before it had been taken, she’d been skipping along, her mother and Monty swinging her by her arms.

‘She must have been a special lady,’ Miki whispered.

‘Monty thought so, I’m sure.’

‘Very special,’ said Miki dreamily.

‘Or a good Donald,’ she called over her shoulder from the bathroom.

‘A good “Donald”?’ queried Miki, following Jude in. ‘What’s that mean?’

‘A good Donald Duck. Y’know!’

Miki took a while to catch on. When she did, the blush began at her toes. ‘God, Jude, don’t you ever think of anything else?’

‘Sometimes. Like when I’m crossing a busy highway. C’mon. Move it, you idiot. Get that uniform off and get in this bath.’

‘I’m going straight to hell for this.’

‘I’ll see you there, sweetheart.’ Her Humphrey Bogart routine. ‘C’mon. Let’s do it. You’re in good hands. Relax, kid. You do know how to relax, don’t you?’ Lauren Bacall.

Miki’s response was a long, loud sigh as she lifted her navy blue tunic over her head.

‘Off with this.’ She had Miki’s tie off and was unbuttoning her white blouse. They had gone through the charade of dressing for school this morning although they knew they wouldn’t be putting a foot on the bus.

Miki, in her singlet and school bloomers and a forlorn look on her face, was a sorry sight, thought Jude, appraising her dearest friend. Her heart went out to Miki, the truest, best in all the world friend. This was too awful to be true but it was true.

She understood that Miki just wanted to turn and run away from what they were going to do this morning, bury her head in the sand and hope it would go away. But it wouldn't. She winced when she saw the look on Miki's face when she spotted the Gordon’s Gin bottle sitting on the vanity basin.

The cost of the phone call to Naomi in New Jersey would horrify Poppy when she got the bill and she would have some explaining to do. But she had desperately needed to make the urgent call to her cousin. And Naomi had assured her that this mustard bath routine worked. She just hoped the eighteen-year-old knew what she was talking about.

She would say to Poppy that she just felt like making the call to the States. Poppy would probably be okay with that. Poppy was having trouble talking to her about the birds and the bees thing, anyway. She would guess that’s why she phoned her cousin.

‘What do you reckon?’ she said, from where she sat on the side of the bathtub, the tin of Keen’s mustard powder in her hand, looking up at Miki. ‘Goes in the bath or in the gin, this stuff?’

‘You’re the expert,’ said Miki, kicking her singlet across the room so that it landed near the chip heater.

‘Let’s put a bit in each. Just to be on the safe side.’ She spooned yellow powder into the two glasses of gin. The powder floated on the surface. She grabbed a comb from the vanity basin, and with the end, vigorously stirred the concoction. She held the tin over the bath and feathered a small amount into the water and then upended the tin. ‘Bugger it, Mik. Let’s put it all in.’

‘Don’t you put gin in the bath as well?’

‘I think you do, actually. Gin and mustard.’ She examined the half bottle of gin. ‘Christ, if only Naomi was here.’

‘Were here.’

‘What?’

‘It’s “were”. You said “was”.'

‘Oh for Chrissakes! Don’t get smart with me now. Not now, Mik.’

‘And don’t blaspheme, either.’

‘Who’s blaspheming?’

‘Don’t say “Christ” all the time.’

‘You say “God”.’

‘God’s not Christ.’

‘I thought he was. And the Holy Ghost, as well.’ She stirred the gin into the hot bath water. ‘Jesus, Miki. Lighten up!’

‘I said don’t blaspheme!’

‘And I’m saying don’t lecture me, okay? Mother Bloody Superior.’

This brought tears to Miki’s eyes.

‘Forget it, chum.’ She came up to Miki and hugged her. ‘Mucho sorrito. That’s Mexican for “I apologise”. Relax, already.’ She moved past Miki and out the bathroom door. ‘We’re gonna need more gin.’

'No more Gordon’s, just this teeny bit of Gilbeys,' she said as she returned, pulling up when she saw Miki staring at the wire coat hanger on the back of the door. She should have hidden it. It was for Poppy’s dressing gown, nothing else.

'God, Mik, I could never come at that!' She came up behind Miki and undid her brassiere and waved the garment in Miki's face. ‘Strip, girl. All the way.’

When they were both standing naked she clinked their glasses. ‘Cheers.’

Miki stepped into the hot bath water. ‘Murder,’ she muttered. ‘A mortal sin.’

‘The hell it’s murder. It’s the rest of your life, that’s what it is. Forget their voodoo. All that stupid Roman Catholic stuff. “Resist much. Obey little! Lord Byron.’

‘Walt Whitman.’

‘The cocktail hour!’ She held up her glass and clinked Miki’s glass again, noting that Miki had not yet taken a sip. ‘Salootay! Mazal Tov!’ Whitman or Byron, who cared? She followed Miki into the bath, lowering her body into the healing waters. She wished her cousin was here. Were here.

‘Isn’t there another way?’ Miki moaned.

‘Yep. It’s called “Motherhood”. But are you ready for it?’

‘Oh God, Jude. What have I done?’

‘Here’s looking at you, kid. Down the hatch. C’mon, one, two, three. Drink!'

She watched as Miki took some of the mixture into her mouth, gagged, and then, with admirable effort, swallowed it down.

'What have you done?’ She took a large swig herself, spitting out the powdery lumps and wiping her chin with the back of her hand. ‘You tell me what you’ve done, sweetheart.’

Silence.

Jude mixed what was left of the powdered mustard with some gin, creating a messy paste. Looking up from her work, ‘My guess is you caught that horrible boy’s vile little seed in your belly and if we don’t do something about it straight away, it will start sprouting body parts. Right? But relax, already. I’m here for you, aren’t I? We’re gonna make all that bad stuff go away. Everything’s gonna be just dandy. Leave it to Dr Jude and her brilliant vanishing cream. Here, let's rub this goo on your belly.’ She slopped the yellow mixture onto Miki’s tummy.

Miki did as she was told, massaging the paste into her skin.

~~~

Ten minutes later they were still sitting facing each other in the bath, not caring that the water had gone cold on them, as they drained the dregs of the gin into their tumblers.

‘To all the bastards.' Jude jabbed a finger at Miki’s belly. 'Including you, ol’ sport.’ Taking Miki into her arms, she hugged her, and doing what she had been doing for the past hour, surreptitiously spilled her cocktail into the bath behind Miki's back. Someone had to be in control. ‘Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.’ It was her best Hollywood voice. ‘Of all the low-down, dirty rotten gin joints in the world, she hadda wander into mine.’

Not even the shadow of a smile from Miki. She could only imagine how awful this must be for her friend. If this didn’t work … well, it was too hideous to think about.

‘What happens, now?’ said Miki, slurring her words. Her arm hung over the side of the tub. The glass tumbled from her hand. ‘Jude?’

‘C’mon. Outside. Liven up, Mik! Two for the high jump.’

Jude stepped out of the bath, being careful to avoid the broken glass. Naked, she darted from the room.

'Jude? What happens now?'

Jude returned to the bathroom with a dustpan and broom and cleared away the broken glass. 'What happens now is that we help the mustard and gin along a bit. C'mon.' She grabbed Miki by the arm and dragged her out of the bath, down the hall and into the dining room.

Checking that the blinds were fully drawn, she dumped a heap of pillows and cushions on the floor at one end of the rosewood dining table and placed a chair on top of the table.

‘If this doesn’t kill, it’ll cure. Up you go,’ she ordered.

‘Go away!’ Miki was lying on the carpet in a foetal position.

‘C’mon, get up Wonder Woman!’ She dragged Miki to her feet. ‘Watch this.’ She climbed onto the table and up onto the dining chair. Leaning over, suspended for the moment as if balancing at the edge of a cliff, she belly-flopped onto the huge pile of pillows. Grabbing one of the cushions, she swiped Miki hard across the midriff. ‘Take that … and that. Now you get up there, go on!’

She helped Miki climb up onto the tower of furniture.

'You can do it. Flop!'

Miki stalled for an instant and then, her eyes glued on Jude's, tilted her body and went limp.

She fell, landing hard on her belly. With a grin on her face, she looked up at Jude ‘Like that?’

‘Yep. Good work! Now, again!’

After several belly-flops, both girls giggling and chasing each other around the room with pillows, Miki stumbled down the hall, returning from Jude's bedroom with an armful of fluffy toys, some they had shared since the cradle.

‘Catch!’ yelled Miki as she tossed Little Pink Teddy high in the air.

Jude had to leap up to grab it. Miki always did that, tossed things above her head for her to catch, as if they were on the field and playing for opposing teams. Good for Mik, she had kept growing and was showing no sign of stopping any time soon. Unlike herself. She had stalled at five foot two. She sometimes thought that was why Miki did it. To lord her height over her. Poppy said good things came in small packages but she was still holding out for some extra inches.

The big golliwog in the red and white stripes was the next toy Miki threw at her. She caught old Bo-Bo and aimed it at Miki’s belly. ‘Take that, you little bastard!’ she giggled.

‘This is fun!’ yelled a drunken Miki as they began a tug-o’-war over Baby Betty, one arm each and tugging hard. Miki, tugging the hardest––Jude not so much––fell flat on her back clutching the doll. ‘I won!’ She held the Baby Betty tight to her chest, rolling onto her belly with it and then back again onto her back, giggling, cradling the doll and sporting a triumphal grin.

Jude felt a sudden chill. The clouds had just blocked the sun.

They both looked down at the doll Miki held in her arms.

Miki flung it away from her, across the other side of the room.

They were sober now, naked and sober.

‘What’s going to happen to me?’ Miki whimpered. ‘Jude?’

They heard a key go in the lock. They froze.

‘Judith?’ came the voice from the veranda porch. ‘Judith, can you hear me?'

They clung to each other.

'I know you are in there. Why is this door deadlocked? Judith, Miki? What are you doing in there?’

It was Poppy!