The Distant Home (2 page)

Only the sky was weird.

You must understand that at the time we are talking about, Middle Street was normal. It was normal to the point of being slightly strange that it was so normal. Middle Street was so absolutely statistically average that polling organizations used its inhabitants to test new ranges of soap powders. Every time there was an election, newspaper reporters would come to Middle Street and ask the people there how they were going to vote. Kids sometimes went mad with boredom in Middle Street but no one argued that it was not an absolutely normal place, probably the most normal place in the Universe.

Until this day.

It was the sky. The sky had turned an unearthly sulphurous yellow, and although there were no clouds, electric discharges cracked and rumbled as if there was a thunder storm going on. There was thunder and lightning but no clouds.

And the thing was, the amazing thing was, that the weather report on television the night before had predicted fine weather. In any other place, people probably would have just thought the weather report was wrong—again. But not in Middle Street. Middle Street always had absolutely average weather.

The people of Middle Street looked out their windows, shuddered and then closed their curtains. They had not bought houses in Middle Street in order to get this kind of weather. No, sir.

The dogs of Middle Street, who represented an absolutely representative statistical distribution of breeds, forgot everything they had ever learned in dog obedience school and howled like werewolves.

Something was up.

In the heart of Middle Street lay the home of Jim and Maria Harrison. The house was brick with a tile roof, and designed in one of the four designs that the developers had allowed for Middle Street. It had a neat front garden with a lawn and square garden beds.

Jim and Maria were both accountants, and that was how they met, five years before the time we are now speaking of.

They had worked for the firm of Flannery and Flannery in the city, and had conducted their courtship in secrecy because old Mr Flannery did not like his employees getting too close to one another, and young Mr Flannery thought Maria was a pretty spunky chick but would never have allowed himself to say so.

It is not that young Mr Flannery would have married Maria. He was already married to a tanned thin blonde who drove a Porsche and took tennis lessons, and back then Maria was Maria Giovanelli, which would not have suited either old or young Mr Flannery’s ideas of a suitable wife at all. Having one name that ended in a vowel was bad enough; having two names that ended in vowels was downright provocative.

So, apart from one occasion at an office Christmas party when he had a drink too many and lunged at Maria behind the filing cabinets, young Mr Flannery had kept his ideas about her to himself. Which was just as well because his thin blonde wife might have taken her tennis racquet to him. Jim might have had a word or two to say as well.

So four years before this time, after a secret courtship, Jim and Maria got married, and one year later they bought their absolutely normal house in Middle Street with their own savings plus a huge loan from the bank, and this year Maria stopped work because she was expecting a baby.

And now the baby was due at any moment. Maria had her bag packed ready for the hospital, she had filled the freezer with meals for Jim (who protested that he could cook but Maria did not believe him for a moment) and had moved her law student sister Kate into the house to make sure Jim defrosted his meals correctly during the few days Maria would be in hospital.

This day, the day of the weird yellow sky, Maria was feeling energetic. She had already scrubbed the kitchen, cleaned out the cupboards and bottled a box of tomatoes. Now she was vacuuming the living room.

Jim was at one end of the big table catching up on some work from the office; Kate was at the other end of the table studying her law books for the end of semester examinations.

Maria worked around them, humming to herself. She had never felt so full of energy in her life, and because she had never had a baby before she couldn’t work out why. These last few months she had felt like a whale without water to swim in. Now she felt fit for the Olympics. Her mother could have told her what this surge of energy meant, but her mother was on the family farm three hundred kilometres away. And because neither Jim nor Kate had ever had a baby, they could not tell her either.

What the energy surge Maria was experiencing meant was that the baby was very close to arriving, but since Maria did not know that, she just got on with vacuuming around Jim and Kate’s feet.

In the street outside, the dry electrical storm still rumbled and cracked in the sulphur-yellow sky above, while the dogs howled like lost souls below.

And then down the street came a beat-up little car, followed by a furniture removalist’s van. Whoever was driving the little car was signalling out the window with a walking cane.

Mrs Webster had arrived in Middle Street.

Her little car pulled up at the house next door to Jim and Maria’s. Out stepped Mrs Webster, looking like a granny from a TV commercial, but not acting like one. First she signalled to the furniture van with her walking cane, showing them where to pull in, and then she marched smartly to the ‘For Sale’ sign nailed to the fence, tore it off and tossed it onto the slightly over-grown front lawn.

Inside the Harrison house, Maria switched off the vacuum cleaner and moved to the window. ‘Someone’s moving in next door!’ she said. And then, with disappointment in her voice, ‘She’s old. I was hoping for a young family, company for junior.’

Jim got up and moved to join Maria at the window. The little old lady was leaning on her walking cane and supervising two removal men as they carried furniture into the house next door. ‘Potential babysitter?’ he said, and then froze, and hurriedly stepped back, because the little old lady had suddenly turned and looked directly at the window and smiled, just as if she could see them. Maria smiled back, unfazed.

‘Put the vacuum cleaner away for me will you please, Jim?’ Maria said as she headed for the door.

‘Maria?’ Jim hated it when Maria introduced herself to strangers.

‘Just being friendly,’ she said as she went out the door.

Jim looked at Kate for support, but she simply smiled. ‘You marry a Giovanelli, you marry someone who talks to the neighbours,’ she told him.

Jim knew when he was beaten. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he said and moved toward the kitchen.

Outside, the weird sky cracked and rumbled above Middle Street as Mrs Webster supervised the removal men, who were now wheeling shining, state-of-the-art kitchen appliances past her.

As Maria came up behind her, Mrs Webster spoke without turning to look. ‘Hello, dear.’ And then she turned, smiling—an apple-cheeked granny from a storybook.

‘Hi,’ smiled Maria, ‘I’m Maria Harrison from next door …’

‘And I’m Mrs Webster.’ Her eyes went to Maria’s waistline and she smiled. ‘Baby must be due any day?’

‘Any day. We were wondering if you’d like a cup of coffee?’

‘Oh, that’s charming,’ said Mrs Webster. ‘Perhaps after I get everything inside?’ And her eyes went up to the sky.

Maria’s eyes followed Mrs Webster’s gaze. ‘I’ve never seen the weather like this,’ she said.

‘I’m very pleased to hear that, dear.’ Then, suddenly turning to the removal men, Mrs Webster barked, ‘Scrape that washer I’ll take it out of your hide, buster!’ Maria looked at Mrs Webster in surprise, and just as suddenly as she had turned drill sergeant, she switched back to sweet little old lady. ‘Only language they understand, dear.’

Maria laughed. ‘I don’t blame you. You have such lovely new things.’

Mrs Webster smiled, and shrugged. ‘My last home was so far away I couldn’t bring any of my old things with me,’ she said.

And then she looked at the sky again with concern. It was darkening from sulphur yellow into deep purple, and the cracking and rumbling sounds were getting nearer.

It was dark by the time the removal men had got all Mrs Webster’s things inside and arranged them according to her wishes. Some of these wishes surprised the men—Mrs Webster had indicated quite firmly that she intended to install all of her electrical appliances herself.

‘The little old lady from hell,’ Steve muttered to Lazlo as they drove away.

‘I wouldn’t joke about that,’ Lazlo answered and made his sign against the evil eye backwards over his right shoulder. Lazlo did not really believe all of that old country stuff, but there was no sense taking chances.

By the time Steve and Lazlo had turned out of Middle Street, Mrs Webster was knocking on the Harrison’s front door. Maria opened it and brought her inside.

In the living room, Jim and Kate were still working at the table, he on his accounting, she on her law books, but they stood, smiling, as Maria and Mrs Webster entered.

‘Mrs Webster, this is Jim, my husband.’

Mrs Webster walked up to Jim and grasped his hand in a grip that would have done justice to a weight lifter. ‘How do you do?’ she said.

‘How do you do?’ Jim echoed, opening and closing his hand to get it working again after Mrs Webster’s handshake.

‘And my sister Kate Giovanelli,’ Maria continued. ‘She’s staying with us while she does her final law exams.’

‘Hi, Mrs Webster.’ Kate was smiling, shaking hands.

‘The Law, Government, the Military,’ Mrs Webster said, nodding her approval, ‘good traditional jobs for a woman.’

Kate laughed and turned to Maria. ‘See, sis? I’ve got another feminist here!’

Mrs Webster looked puzzled. ‘Did I just make some kind of joke there?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely not,’ said Kate. ‘To achieve something you’ve got to imagine it first.’

‘Now I really am confused,’ said Mrs Webster, paused, and suddenly reverted to her sweet little old lady expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I suppose I’ve had a very big day.’ Then she moved to an armchair and sat down. ‘Someone said something about coffee?’

‘Right away,’ said Jim, and moved for the kitchen.

‘I’ve been on ships,’ said Mrs Webster. ‘The only good thing about them was the …’ and then she paused, ‘well, I guess you’d say “the coffee”.’

‘Ships?’ asked Kate.

‘Cruise liners, I suppose,’ said Maria.

Mrs Webster smiled her little old lady smile. ‘Just ships,’ she said.

Middle Street had gone to bed. The lights were out, the cats were out, the dogs were in, the inhabitants were all having their absolutely statistically normal amount of sleep.

In only two houses were there any signs of life. There were lights on at the Harrison’s, and next door, Mrs Webster’s house was ablaze with light. Occasionally, Mrs Webster’s silhouette could be seen moving around, dragging furniture, or in the kitchen installing and testing appliances.

Above Middle Street the sky was still strange. Flickers of silent lightning would suddenly appear, join with one another and divide again. Dark shadows sometimes unaccountably would eclipse the stars for a moment, then fade out of existence.

Then Mrs Webster’s front door opened, and Mrs Webster came out. She stood, looking at the sky, expectant, troubled. Then she turned as Jim Harrison ran out of the house next door, carrying Maria’s hospital suitcase.

Maria came out, followed by Kate. ‘The frozen meals are in the freezer,’ Maria was saying.

‘Get to the hospital, sis, if I can’t find the freezer I can cook!’ Kate interrupted.

‘They’re all labelled!’ Maria finished.

‘Get her out of here, Jim!’

‘Come on!’ yelled Jim, opening the car doors front and rear, grabbing the suitcase, putting it down behind the car, helping Maria into the passenger seat, slamming the door, going round to the driver’s seat, getting in, starting the engine, remembering where he left the suitcase, getting out, running back and tossing the suitcase into the rear seat, getting back in again, and finally driving into the street.

Standing on the Harrison’s doorstep, Kate breathed a sigh of relief at seeing them on the road. Then something made her look around, and she was surprised to see Mrs Webster standing on her own doorstep, watching.

‘Off to the hospital?’ called Mrs Webster.

‘I never thought they’d leave!’ Kate called back, and went inside and slammed the door.

Mrs Webster paused for a moment, and then moved swiftly to her own little car, got in and drove away, following the route taken by Maria and Jim.

Inside the Harrison house, Kate frowned, puzzled. She could have sworn she heard a car drive off. She turned back to the front door, opened it and looked out, and then stared. She had been right. Mrs Webster’s car was no longer there. She stood for a moment looking at where the car had been, then shrugged and then went back inside to hit the law books again.

Meanwhile, Jim and Maria were driving toward Central Hospital. ‘How are the contractions?’ Jim said.

‘The same as they were when you asked me a minute ago,’ said Maria. Then she smiled and patted his hand. ‘I’ll be fine. You just drive safe and steady and everything’ll be okay.’

‘I’m going to be a father,’ Jim sang to himself, ‘I’m going to be someone’s father,’ he hummed. ‘I’m going to be an ancestor,’ he carolled, as around them the dry electrical storm cracked and rumbled, and a couple of hundred metres behind, Mrs Webster’s little car kept on their tail.

The dry electrical storm seemed to get worse as they neared the hospital, but it wasn’t until they were nearly to the gate that they struck trouble, and the trouble they struck was very strange indeed.

The electrical system in their car failed. The lights blinked out, the engine seized, they came to a dead halt. At the same moment, the street lights went out, and as they watched, every light in the hospital went dark.

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no,’ said Jim, but he was already getting out, slamming his door and running round to Maria’s side of the car, wrenching open her door. ‘We’re very close, we can walk!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t panic!’ he screamed. ‘Everything’s under control!’ he gabbled hysterically.

Maria got out, opened the rear door and gestured at her suitcase before he could run her into the hospital without it, and while he was getting the suitcase, she cast a glance backward. ‘That’s funny, Jim, there’s a car back there with all its lights on.’

‘Lucky them,’ he said, and took her hand and started moving toward the hospital entrance, past drivers of other stalled cars who were now looking at their engines and making attempts to get them started again.

The lobby of the hospital was chaotic. The staff on the reception desk were explaining to people that emergency power would come on at any moment, and that everything would be all right, and if they would just resume their seats then everyone would be dealt with in order of priority.

When one of them tried to explain this to Jim, he went berserk. ‘My wife is having a baby!’ he said, ‘she is having a baby right now!’ he argued. ‘She is going to have a baby right now, on the lobby floor,’ he reasoned, ‘and if you don’t do something about getting her admitted, I am going to sue this hospital in every court in the land!’

Five minutes later, Maria was on a patient trolley being wheeled along a hospital corridor by torch-carrying nurses. Jim was walking alongside her, talking to her, telling her she was going to be okay, he would be alongside her doing the breathing exercises they had learned together, it was going to be fine, he said.

‘You are not going to be alongside her,’ said the nursing sister.

‘That’s the arrangement,’ he said.

‘Not with the lights out,’ she said.

‘We’ll talk to the doctor about that,’ he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. He could have sworn he just heard the tap-tap-tap of a walking cane behind him but when he looked all he could see was a dark shadow against one wall.

‘Under normal circumstances,’ said the doctor when they reached the delivery room, ‘I like the husband present during the birth. But these are not normal circumstances, so go and sit in the waiting room.’

‘But—’ began Jim.

‘Now!’ finished the doctor.

When Jim had stumbled and groped his way to the waiting room, it too was in darkness. Somewhere in the darkness, there was a clicking sound. He peered toward the sound, and made out, by the starlight coming through the window, the form of an old lady, sitting in the dark, knitting. There was something familiar about her.

‘Mrs Webster?’ he said. ‘Is that you?’

‘Certainly is, Mr Harrison,’ Mrs Webster replied.

‘Do you mind my asking,’ he said, ‘what you’re doing here?’

‘Old ladies don’t sleep very much,’ she replied, ‘and it just came to me that you might be needing company.’

‘Nice thought,’ he said, and then sat down, too occupied by his concern for Maria to give any more thought to his new neighbour’s strange behaviour.

The hours passed, the darkness remained.

Jim paced. Jim sat, crossing and recrossing his legs. Occasionally, Jim would say, ‘What’s happening?’ and Mrs Webster would reply, ‘It’s all going to be okay.’

Finally, Jim had had enough of that answer. ‘My wife’s having a baby in there without electric light!’

‘Babies don’t know about electric light,’ said Mrs Webster. ‘Until they’re born, they’ve spent their entire lives in the dark.’ Then she put her hand to her hearing aid, the way people do if they’re pressing in an earphone on a cassette player, trying to hear the words better. ‘It’s all happening on schedule,’ she said, and then added, ‘they’re all going to be just fine.’

And as she said it, the lights went on!

Startled, Jim looked around, and as he did so, a nurse walked into the waiting room.

‘Mr Harrison?’ she said. ‘It’s a boy!’

‘Yeayyy!’ Jim was on his feet, punching a fist into his palm. He beamed. He glowed. He was brighter than the lights themselves. Mrs Webster, on the other hand, seemed puzzled.

‘A boy?’ she said, as if there’d been some mistake.

‘And a girl,’ the nurse finished.

Jim stared, amazed, but Mrs Webster smiled and nodded, no longer puzzled.

‘Twins?’ said Jim. ‘The doctor didn’t say it was twins?’

The nurse had heard it before on other such occasions, and she had her answer ready. ‘Doctors can make mistakes. It’s twins. Boy and girl.’

Mrs Webster just sat there smiling. Her spectacles glinted. ‘Girl and a boy. Pigeon pair.’

Twelve years later, almost to the day, Jim would realize that Mrs Webster had known all along that that’s the way it would turn out. That, in a very real sense, it was how she and her people had planned it.