the TAB first thing in the morning. Before all the other Melbourne Cup once-a-year punters found their way down there and formed long, snaking queues that took over an hour to negotiate.
At about ten o’clock, there had been a great fuss when someone spotted Cricket still in the bath, having set up an intricate game that involved some small figurines who were regularly leaping into the watery depths to their doom. She had been immediately, and forcibly, removed by her father and stuck in front of the heater to thaw out. However, even when she was finally deposited into bed half an hour later, her skin still had that peculiar wrinkled sausage look reminiscent of anaemic corpses.
No doubt realising that he, and nobody else, was in charge at that point, Jack turned into a rabid dictator for a short period of time. He harassed Megan and Kate off to bed forthwith and finally seemed to notice that his son had done a disappearing act hours earlier. While he sorted out his offspring, Emily replenished their drinks and retired to the lounge-room where she curled up in one of the two coffee-coloured crushed-velvet couches and reflected on the evening.
One thing was for sure, she now had a much better understanding of what was getting her sister down. Life in the Carstairs household could not be called relaxing by any stretch of the imagination. Not with a constant stream of kids to feed, dishes to do, animals both to feed and medicate, clothes to wash, rooms to clean, arguments to mediate, dishes to do, kids to bathe, homework to supervise, and then, just when you thoughteverything was done – more dishes to do. And Emily was guessing that there was a hell of a lot more to do when the tribe all had school and work the next day, instead of a day of rest.
On the positive side was the company. The kids were a nice bunch, and all so different that it was pretty interesting just watching the varying personalities at play. Matt so basic and transparent, Megan so helpful and intuitive, Kate so reserved and prickly, and Cricket so . . . well, try as she might, Emily couldn’t think of any fitting adjectives that accurately summed up her youngest niece. She was still sitting in the two-seater couch and musing about the family dynamics when Jack came in to join her. And it wasn’t long before the conversation turned to what was obviously uppermost in his mind – Jill.
‘It all started with Cricket.’ Jack sighed heavily and ran his spare hand through his hair again. ‘We never planned to have another one, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘Not that we don’t love the kid.’ Jack looked across at Emily earnestly. ‘Don’t know what we’d do without her now. She’s a real character, that’s for sure.’
‘True. Very true.’
‘But Jill never sort of . . . bounced back like she did with the others. It was all a lot harder with Cricket. And then there was giving up her job.’
‘Why did she?’ Emily looked at him curiously. ‘I mean, she was enjoying it so much, why didn’t she just take maternity leave and then pop Cricket into crèche so that she could go back?’
‘Ask her,’ Jack said morosely, ‘ I don’t know.’
‘Come on! You must have some idea!’
‘No, I don’t. I mean, we never really spoke about it, that’s just the way we’d done it with the others, so why not? I thought it was what she wanted.’
‘Are you serious?’ Emily looked at him disbelievingly. ‘You know your wife loves her job, then she gets pregnant accidentally, then she has the baby – and you never discuss whether she’s going back to work or not? You just go with the flow?’
‘Works well for me.’
‘Really? You sure about that?’ Emily asked derisively, raising her eyebrows. ‘And if it’s working so damn well, where, may I ask, is your wife?’
‘Point taken.’ Jack slid even further down into his armchair and took a gulp of his scotch. ‘Mind you, there are some advantages to the situation, you know. If she was
At about ten o’clock, there had been a great fuss when someone spotted Cricket still in the bath, having set up an intricate game that involved some small figurines who were regularly leaping into the watery depths to their doom. She had been immediately, and forcibly, removed by her father and stuck in front of the heater to thaw out. However, even when she was finally deposited into bed half an hour later, her skin still had that peculiar wrinkled sausage look reminiscent of anaemic corpses.
No doubt realising that he, and nobody else, was in charge at that point, Jack turned into a rabid dictator for a short period of time. He harassed Megan and Kate off to bed forthwith and finally seemed to notice that his son had done a disappearing act hours earlier. While he sorted out his offspring, Emily replenished their drinks and retired to the lounge-room where she curled up in one of the two coffee-coloured crushed-velvet couches and reflected on the evening.
One thing was for sure, she now had a much better understanding of what was getting her sister down. Life in the Carstairs household could not be called relaxing by any stretch of the imagination. Not with a constant stream of kids to feed, dishes to do, animals both to feed and medicate, clothes to wash, rooms to clean, arguments to mediate, dishes to do, kids to bathe, homework to supervise, and then, just when you thoughteverything was done – more dishes to do. And Emily was guessing that there was a hell of a lot more to do when the tribe all had school and work the next day, instead of a day of rest.
On the positive side was the company. The kids were a nice bunch, and all so different that it was pretty interesting just watching the varying personalities at play. Matt so basic and transparent, Megan so helpful and intuitive, Kate so reserved and prickly, and Cricket so . . . well, try as she might, Emily couldn’t think of any fitting adjectives that accurately summed up her youngest niece. She was still sitting in the two-seater couch and musing about the family dynamics when Jack came in to join her. And it wasn’t long before the conversation turned to what was obviously uppermost in his mind – Jill.
‘It all started with Cricket.’ Jack sighed heavily and ran his spare hand through his hair again. ‘We never planned to have another one, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘Not that we don’t love the kid.’ Jack looked across at Emily earnestly. ‘Don’t know what we’d do without her now. She’s a real character, that’s for sure.’
‘True. Very true.’
‘But Jill never sort of . . . bounced back like she did with the others. It was all a lot harder with Cricket. And then there was giving up her job.’
‘Why did she?’ Emily looked at him curiously. ‘I mean, she was enjoying it so much, why didn’t she just take maternity leave and then pop Cricket into crèche so that she could go back?’
‘Ask her,’ Jack said morosely, ‘ I don’t know.’
‘Come on! You must have some idea!’
‘No, I don’t. I mean, we never really spoke about it, that’s just the way we’d done it with the others, so why not? I thought it was what she wanted.’
‘Are you serious?’ Emily looked at him disbelievingly. ‘You know your wife loves her job, then she gets pregnant accidentally, then she has the baby – and you never discuss whether she’s going back to work or not? You just go with the flow?’
‘Works well for me.’
‘Really? You sure about that?’ Emily asked derisively, raising her eyebrows. ‘And if it’s working so damn well, where, may I ask, is your wife?’
‘Point taken.’ Jack slid even further down into his armchair and took a gulp of his scotch. ‘Mind you, there are some advantages to the situation, you know. If she was
Similar Books
