The Family Tree (3 page)

As Oscar passed Sam a beer and waved his hands in the manner he had when explaining some pertinent point, Kate transferred her gaze to her cousin Angie. Her best friend, her surrogate sister. Who was sitting at the cedar table bent over Shelley's jeans, her hand rising and falling as she pushed a needle through the denim. Angie was only a shade shorter than Kate's five foot five but was, and always had been, a good deal plumper. Kate thought it suited her, softening her features and creating an overall
roundness
that was charismatic in itself.

Oscar and Angie had separated five years ago, soon after their daughter Melissa left for university. Like many, they had declared their intention of remaining friends for the sake of their child but, unlike most, they had managed, almost effortlessly, to achieve this. In fact, if anything, they were better friends now than they had been during the last years of their marriage. Whilst giving some credit to Oscar, Kate
attributed this mostly to her cousin, and to the neutralising effect of her serenity.

If Angie could best be described as serene, then the person sitting next to her and tapping one foot impatiently on the decking was her polar opposite. Michelle was a tall, thin girl with straight, almost waist-length nut-brown hair and a rather hyperactive edginess. No matter what she was doing, whether working or resting or playing, one foot would be tapping, or a hand fidgeting, or her eyes blinking as a million thoughts whipped through her mind. And she had been like that since infancy. Always on the move, always edgy, always demanding.

At the moment, though, Shelley's outfit was more striking than her personality. A filmy, spaghetti-strapped number on top, and a pair of pink polka-dotted pyjama pants on the bottom. Together with full make-up and gold beaded earrings that sparkled between the strands of flowing hair and brushed against her shoulders as she turned. On her mother's pyjama-clad lap, and getting a free jiggle, was little Emma. Seven and a half months old and adorable as only a baby could be. A perfectly symmetrical head covered by sparse blonde waves that were currently secured in a waterfall, huge blue eyes, button nose and a coral-pink rosebud mouth.

‘What're you doing, Mum?'

‘Watering the plants,' said Kate, immediately pouring the remaining contents of her glass over a few potted herbs on the windowsill before turning to her eldest son.

‘Well, if you're not doing anything, can you drive me over to Box Hill? I want to have a few drinks tonight.'

‘Ditto. And do you happen to know where your brother is?'

‘Already left. But can't you drive me over
before
you have a few drinks?' Caleb raised an eyebrow and gave her his most winning smile, which may well have worked but for the fact her guests were already sitting on the decking. Kate pointed wordlessly and Caleb leant in closer to have a look. He was a tall boy, an inch or two over six foot, and well built in the bargain. The best-looking of Kate's children as well as the most easygoing and the most popular. At one stage, of all the phone calls received
each day in the Carson–Painter household, about three-quarters would be for Caleb. With the advent of mobile phones, Kate was at least saved from having to continually take messages from laconic boys and eager, breathy girls.

But she could well understand why Caleb was so well liked. He was a person without subterfuge, so that there was never any game-playing or point-scoring or sidelong glances. What you saw was what you got. A personable, educated, laid-back bloke with all the easy confidence that comes from twenty-one years of security and good looks. Everything, in fact, that his twin brother was not.

Caleb straightened and then grinned down at his mother. ‘Okay, you're off the hook. I'll ring around and find someone who's heading in that direction.'

‘Good idea.' Kate watched her son stroll away, already flipping open his phone. Why, she wondered with a flare of irritation, hadn't he just done that in the first place? Was it so much easier to persuade her to give up
her
time than it was to get organised in the first place?

The glass sliding door was sent shuddering across its tracks as Shelley bounded through, the finished jeans hanging over one arm. She glanced at her mother with an instant frown. ‘Mum! What're you doing there? Doesn't matter, haven't got time. Gotta run.' And she was gone, heading rapidly towards the bathroom. Her perfume hung in the air; a musk aroma that felt thick and vaguely suffocating.

Kate took a deep breath and left the safety of her position by the sink. As she walked, she turned her head as far as it would go to the right and then to the left, feeling the tendons stretch with some satisfaction. It was an exercise she had read about which was designed to assist tension, and perhaps even lessen the headaches that beset her from time to time. Thus far it had achieved minimal success. She pushed the sliding door open with less gusto than her daughter and went through onto the decking, fixing a smile to her face.

‘Kate!
There
you are!' Angie turned awkwardly, the baby on her lap having a firm grip on her black beads. ‘I thought we'd have to send out a search party!'

‘Just got caught up.' Kate sent a wave in Oscar's direction. The barbecue was in full sizzle now; marinated steaks hissed on the grill and a few chilli-speckled burgers browned beside them.

Angie peered at Kate. ‘Have you got eczema or something?'

‘No, just flushed with vitality.' Kate sat down beside her cousin and reached over to slip the hair tie out of Emma's hair before running her fingers through the blonde waves and smoothing them down. The baby chuckled approvingly.

‘Vitality, hey? Sure you haven't got a head start on us?'

‘I wish.'

‘Well, you can catch up now then. Have a glass of this.' Angie wrapped one arm around Emma's waist so that she could use the other to push a bottle towards Kate. ‘It's a very nice chardonnay.'

‘From up near Seymour,' called Oscar. ‘A great little winery that's off the beaten track. Superb place. Hardly anyone knows about it.'

Angie leant towards Kate. ‘Unless they read the huge-ass signs along the highway, that is. And then follow the arrows.'

Kate poured herself a glass while she examined her cousin more closely. Her long, curly chestnut hair was pulled back into a plait from which a few tendrils had escaped to frame her face. Apart from the black beads, she was wearing a pair of thin linen pants and matching loose vest that covered a black T-shirt.

‘Have you lost weight?'

‘No such luck.' Angie paused with a dip-laden cracker halfway to her mouth. ‘Why? Do I look like I have? I
am
on a diet, so maybe it's working.'

The sliding door bounced open again and Shelley emerged, her long legs now encased in tight black denim. Kate, who had pulled the salad bowl over to start tossing the salad, paused to eye her critically, deciding that she preferred the pyjamas. They made her daughter look somehow more vulnerable and less predatory.

‘Thanks Auntie Angie, you did a
great
job. Much better than Mum would've.' Shelley leant down to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek. ‘Bye, bye precious. Shoot, has Grannie taken out your pretty hair tie already?'

‘If I'm looking after her I prefer the child not to look like an onion.'

‘Grannie,' repeated Angie, with a grin at Kate.

Shelley gave Emma another kiss. ‘Anyway, I'd better go. Running late.'

‘Bye sweetheart,' called Sam, waving the spatula. ‘Have fun.'

‘I will. Bye all. Happy New Year and all that.'

After they had each echoed this sentiment, Shelley flew back through the sliding door and disappeared into the house. Shortly afterwards, her Astra could be heard firing up in the driveway and then reversing out with a high-pitched scream.

‘She makes me feel exhausted,' said Angie.

‘You and me both.' Kate took one of Emma's fat fists. ‘Lucky you're a bit more relaxed than Mummy, isn't it?'

‘Ker-
choo
!' spluttered Emma, her body shuddering with the effort as a fine spray of mucus and spit rained down on her grandmother's hand.

‘Bless you!' said Angie as Kate retracted her now damp hand and stared at it.

Sam threw a roll of paper towel towards the table, striking his wife squarely on the shoulder. The paper towel bounced off, hit the side of the table and rebounded into a potted plant where it nestled amongst the fronds.

‘Great catch!' Oscar toasted Kate while Sam held up his hand in apology, although with a grin that robbed it of any real sincerity.

As Sam turned away again, Kate glared towards the back of his head and then retrieved the paper towel, tearing off a piece to wipe down her hand. It still felt sticky, but rather than go inside and give it a good wash, she topped up her wine and took a deep sip instead.

‘Are you getting a cold then, gorgeous?' asked Angie in a singsong voice. Kate passed over a piece of towel and Angie used it to dry the baby's face and nose deftly as Emma batted at her with chubby starfish hands, finally managing to strike herself on the nose. Her eyes widened with surprise and she stared at her hands, spreading and then clenching her fingers as if a clue lay just within their grasp.

‘Ever smelt mothballs, Katey-loo?' asked Oscar suddenly, apropos of nothing.

Kate frowned at him. ‘Don't call me Katey-loo. And of course I've smelt mothballs. What's that got to do with anything?'

‘Then how'd you get their legs apart?'

‘How did I . . . ?' Kate's frown cleared as she got the joke. She smiled wanly and took another long sip of wine.

‘Good one, huh?' Oscar slapped his thigh happily and turned back to Sam.

‘Idiot,' said Angie. ‘Can't believe I stayed with him for twenty years. Are the boys here tonight?'

‘Are you kidding? New Year's Eve? No, Jake's already gone and Caleb's inside waiting for a lift. Or he might have left by now.'

Angie readjusted Emma and then straightened the baby's candy-striped rompers. ‘So Jake's gone out? That's a good sign, isn't it?'

‘Who knows?' Kate shrugged. ‘If I try to ask him anything, he just gives me this
look
. As if I'm being amazingly intrusive.'

‘I
know
that look. Melissa's an expert at it.'

‘But you're lucky. I mean, Mel's so sensible.' Kate petered off as she took another sip of wine. ‘How is she anyway? Have you heard from her lately?'

‘Well, I told you she'd renewed her contract over there, didn't I? I suppose it's great career-wise, but I do miss her.' Angie looked rueful. ‘And I think she's quite serious about that Brad guy she brought out. You know, for the funeral.'

‘Grub's up!' announced Sam cheerfully, bringing a platter of still-sizzling steak and burgers over to the table. Oscar followed him with their beer.

‘Looks great,' Angie sniffed enthusiastically and then looked down at Emma. ‘And what do I do with the little princess here?'

‘I'll just put her in the playpen.' Kate hefted her grand-daughter off Angie's lap as she stood up. As usual, the soft, pliable weight of the baby brought a rush of affection so Kate lifted her even higher and kissed her gently on the soft curve of her cheek. Delicious.

‘Where'd you get your meat, mate?' asked Oscar, sitting down next to Sam and piercing a piece of steak with a fork. He lifted it up and examined it critically.

‘Dunno,' replied Sam equably. ‘Ask Kate.'

‘At the local butcher.' Kate lowered Emma into her playpen with its scattering of brightly coloured toys. The baby immediately grabbed an interlinked set of red, blue and yellow rings and tried to shovel the entire lot into her mouth.

‘Oh, you should go to this bloke up in Bayswater. Can't get any better. Big thick steaks that melt in your mouth. I'll give you the name. Tell him Oscar sent you.'

‘And if I want big thick steaks, I'll keep him in mind,' said Kate, sinking back into her chair. ‘But I find that when you intend
marinating
, thin is the way to go.'

‘Doesn't matter. He does everything well,' replied Oscar, unperturbed.

Kate piled some of her thin, beautifully marinated steak onto her plate and then used the servers to collect a portion of tossed salad. Everyone else had already begun eating, both Sam and Angie opting for the steak while Oscar had now made himself a rather overloaded burger, which he was attempting to wrap his mouth around. It occurred to Kate suddenly that he looked exactly like Emma with her plastic rings. She laughed.

‘What's funny?' asked Angie before following Kate's gaze. ‘Oh, him. Believe me, it's only amusing in small doses.'

‘As with perfection,' replied Oscar, removing some lettuce from his burger.

Angie took a sip of wine and contemplated him quizzically. ‘Personally I don't find perfection all that amusing. In small
or
large doses.'

‘Clearly. Otherwise you'd never have let me go.' Oscar pressed the heel of his hand down on his burger to flatten it. ‘Where'd you get these buns, Katey-loo?'

‘I made them,' replied Kate shortly, slicing up her steak and ignoring the amazement on her husband's face.

Angie chuckled. ‘You'll have to give me the recipe.'

‘Sorry, no can do. It's a family one, passed down through generations.'

‘In case you've forgotten. I
am
family.'

‘On my mother's side, I mean. She wrote it out with her last breath.'

‘What? Like on a fogged up window?'

‘Hey, they're really good.' Sam spoke thickly, as he was now chewing on one of the perfectly round, sesame-seed buns that came from the local hot-bread shop. ‘Can you make more of them? I might start taking them to work. Taste a bloody sight better than the bought stuff.'

‘Sure. In my spare time.'