Dying for Cake, page 9
When she got back upstairs, she could hear David in the shower. She looked at her watch again. It was 9.00 a.m.! Shit!
Sophie was sitting at the table. She’d helped herself to cereal and there was milk and sugar spilt all around her bowl.
‘Sophie, after you’ve finished your Rice Bubbles, will you wrap the pass the parcel for me? I’ve already wrapped the surprise. See?’ Clare held up a little parcel wrapped in bright pink tissue paper. ‘You just have to wrap the parcel with newspaper and put one of these little packets of seeds in each layer.’
Sophie scowled. ‘What are they for?’
‘They’re the little prizes you get when the music stops and you have to unwrap a layer.’
‘At Laura’s party we got Smarties.’
‘Well, your party is a garden party. Remember?’ Clare hoped that Sophie would be reasonable. She didn’t want to have a confrontation this morning. ‘We’re having little packets of seeds as prizes. Don’t you think that will be fun?’
Sophie crossed her arms and leant back in her chair. ‘I want Smarties.’
‘Mummy hasn’t bought Smarties for the parcel, sweetheart. We’ve just got a big packet of them to share at lunchtime. Don’t cry now. You’ve got to be my big helper. Okay?’ Clare heard the anxious, pleading tone her voice was beginning to take on. She told herself to stay calm. She had to breathe and stifle her own anxiety. She could handle the situation if she just got her emotions under control. She released the air that had been building up the pressure in her chest. She smiled at her daughter and spoke softly. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Sophie.
Clare muttered a prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent force was at work. She left Sophie to her own devices and took the punch bowl and the cups out of the cabinet in the dining room. Everything was covered in a fine film of dust so she ran some hot water into the sink and frantically washed the bowl and cups. She flinched at the temperature because she didn’t have time to put on rubber gloves.
David walked into the kitchen. Clean and perfectly groomed, with his glossy brown hair combed and slicked back, he looked well slept and completely unruffled.
‘I’ll just have my cereal and then I’ll do whatever you want me to do.’
Clare glared at him. It was 9.45. She thumped the punch bowl down on the bench, took the frozen tetra pack of orange juice from the freezer, cut open the lid and banged it hard on the bench. The frozen juice popped out and skidded across the bench. She just caught it before it hit the floor, getting ice in her nails and sweet sticky juice all over her hands.
‘Shit!’
‘Honey, don’t swear in front of Sophie. You’re getting yourself into a state. Calm down. It’s only a kids’ party.’
Clare ground her teeth.
‘Have you had your medication yet?’
She hated it when he said that. He was abdicating all responsibility for her moods and implying that her anxiety levels were due to the state of her hormones. She told herself to breathe out but the air swelled into a tight bubble in her lungs and the words took on added force to squeeze past the blockage, crashing out angrily. ‘I haven’t had time to have my medication yet!’
‘Well, go and take it. Leave the rest of the preparations to me. We don’t want your dark cloud spoiling the party. Come on, Sophie, I’ll help you finish that and then we’ll go outside and blow up some balloons.’
Clare slammed the chopping board down on the table and cut the passionfruit brutally. She scraped the pulp into the bowl with the frozen orange juice and added a tin of crushed pineapple. She threw some strawberries into the mixture and placed a tea towel over the bowl. She would add the lemonade and the ginger ale when everyone arrived. She grabbed the streamers and took them out to the back deck for David to put up.
About five minutes before the guests arrived, Sophie asked about her presents again and Clare went and fetched them from her room. Sophie unwrapped the first present. It was the foldout Barbie house she’d been wanting for ages. Her face lit up. ‘Can I play with it now?’
‘Wait until after the party, Sophie,’ David said, giving her a hug. ‘It will take us a while to set it up.’
‘Why don’t you open your other present now,’ said Clare, smiling in anticipation.
Sophie unwrapped the other present. An exquisite sunflower costume fell out of the soft yellow tissue paper.
‘What is it?’ Sophie swung the green velvet leaf up into the air and the bright yellow petals hung down.
‘It’s a flower costume. You can wear it today. Isn’t it gorgeous?’ It had cost Clare more than she would ever have admitted to David. She had bought it in an expensive little children’s shop in the trendier part of town. She helped Sophie put the costume on. ‘Look, the leaves are green velvet and they tie around your waist like this. See? The petals go around your face.’
Sophie peeled the petals off and pouted her lips. ‘I don’t want to be a flower.’
‘What?’ Clare was incredulous.
‘I want to be a fairy. I’m going to wear my fairy costume.’
‘But that thing’s so old and grubby, Sophie.’ The fairy costume had long been Sophie’s favourite but it was torn and dirty and covered in grey mildew. Clare would have thrown it out ages ago if she wasn’t so fearful of Sophie’s reaction. ‘Besides,’ pleaded Clare, ‘it’s a garden party, not a fairy party.’
‘Fairies live in the garden. I’m going to be a fairy!’
David put his arm around Clare and spoke softly in her ear. ‘I think we’d better let her wear what she likes, Clare. The most important thing is that she’s happy on her birthday.’
Sophie ran into her room, dived into the dressing-up box and pulled on the tattered pink netting fairy costume. She pulled on her ballet shoes and ran to her father so that he could help her put on the wings, which were made out of stockings stretched over wire and were, after much use, pocked with holes.
Clare breathed out again. She tried to let it all go. It was better to let it go. They’d all be arriving any minute now. She went into the bathroom to swallow her Zoloft and clean her teeth.
From 10.30 the backyard began to fill with preschoolers dressed as ladybugs and bumblebees, butterflies and flowers.
‘How many did you invite?’ David asked as two bright yellow bumblebees, with stripes of black insulation tape, flew past to gather Minties from the branches of the lemon tree.
‘The whole class!’
David looked at the small group of parents who had chosen not to drop off their kids and run. They were loitering around the punch bowl, happily oblivious to their children. He wiped the sweat off his brow. ‘What’s next on the agenda?’
‘I think it’s the ‘pin the bee on the flower’. The blindfold is hanging on the fence. Can you organise that? I have to heat up the sausage rolls and the cheerios.’
Joanna was in the kitchen with Susan. They were whispering about something, heads bent towards each other in some friendly conspiracy. Clare just managed to catch the tail end of something Susan was saying. ‘… of course, I tried to help her get organised for it. I didn’t want her to be stressed about it, especially now I know that she’s on medica —’
Joanna looked up, her face bright red, as Clare entered the kitchen. ‘Where do you want me to put the cake?’ she asked, pretending to look helpless. Clare smiled benignly. They were talking about her. Of course, now she had told them that she was taking antidepressants, she was hot gossip. Oh well, it made a change from talking about Evelyn.
Clare gazed at Joanna for a moment. She looked a little slimmer. Maybe the diet was working for her at last. She did need to lose some weight. She was short. She had short legs and she didn’t carry excess weight easily. Even so, Clare thought, she had a pretty face, girlish somehow. She needed to do something with her hair though.
‘Here’s a spot, Jo. Thanks for making the cake. Can I take a peek?’
‘Sure.’ Joanna eased off the Tupperware lid.
Susan gasped, ‘Wow!’
The cake was a masterpiece. Large and round, covered in handmade pink marzipan blossoms which were set in a bed of fluffy white vienna cream icing and pink sugar.
‘It’s lovely, Joanna. Really lovely. You sure know how to bake a cake!’ Clare gave her a hug.
‘It’s perfect!’ exclaimed Susan. ‘Do you think you could do Maxine’s for me?’
Joanna laughed. ‘Sure! I had great fun making it.’
‘The garden theme’s cute, Clare,’ said Susan. ‘Mind you, Laura’s costume cost me a fortune.’ Laura looked exquisite in her bright red ladybeetle outfit with its black velvet cap and feelers. Clare wished the birthday girl looked as photogenic for her own party.
Susan looked down into the garden from the kitchen window. ‘I sent Richard out the back to photograph all the kids when we arrived … Why’s Sophie wearing that old fairy outfit? I thought you bought a new sunflower costume for her to wear.’
‘I did!’ Clare rolled her eyes. ‘She wouldn’t wear it.’
Joanna laughed. ‘Sounds like typical kid behaviour to me!’
Susan nodded. ‘Yes. Never mind. The birthday child is always a bit testy when the big day finally arrives.’
Clare pulled a tray of jelly oranges and a fruit platter out of the fridge. ‘Could you two help me set the table?’
‘Sure,’ said Joanna, taking the trays.
Susan took the tablecloth that Clare had dug out from the bottom drawer. She was heading for the door when Sophie ran into the kitchen, pulling Laura along by the hand. ‘Mummy … Mummy … Laura sat in one of Molly’s poos!’
‘Oh no!’ Susan dropped the tablecloth back onto the bench. She picked Laura up and, holding her out at arm’s length to avoid dog doo on her new green floral dress, she raced into the bathroom.
In the end, Clare had to set the table by herself while Susan and Joanna put Laura in the bath. The party table was actually the legless plastic top of an old outdoor table Clare had bought at a garage sale a long time ago. They brought it out for Sophie’s parties because it was low enough for lots of kids to sit around on cushions. Clare threw the pink gingham cloth over the table and laid out bright yellow plastic plates and purple napkins. She brought out clear plastic cups with neon-coloured straws and three jugs of cordial, green, red and orange. In the centre of the table she put a little green plastic watering can, full of artificial sunflowers. Then she brought out the chips and the Smarties and the sandwiches and the jelly oranges. The table looked beautiful. If only Sophie was wearing her new flower costume, Clare thought. What a perfect photo opportunity it would be. Never mind, Laura would need something to wear after her bath. She’d tell Susan to put the flower costume on Laura. Someone might as well wear it.
Here was Susan now carrying Laura wrapped in a towel. ‘Could I borrow some of Sophie’s clothes, Clare? I didn’t think to bring a change …’
Clare grinned. ‘She can wear that costume of Sophie’s if she likes. It’s on the bed.’
‘Clare! Clare!’ David was calling her from down in the yard.
She put her head over the deck. ‘What is it?’
David’s brow was creased and he looked up at her, speaking in an agitated voice. ‘Can you ring the poisons information centre?’
‘Oh my God! What for?’
‘Sam’s just eaten a packet of those seeds you put in the pass the parcel.’
Joanna anxiously called the poisons information service and was told that, to be on the safe side, Sam would have to have his stomach pumped.
‘I’m so sorry, Joanna,’ Clare cried as Joanna collected her bag and rushed out.
Joanna put her hand on Clare’s arm. ‘Look, don’t fret about it. The silly child eats anything. I’ll call Tom and he can pick Jake up. Okay?’
Clare nodded and watched Joanna carry Sam, happily oblivious to future proceedings, out to her car. The car screeched out of the driveway, immediately revealing the extent of Joanna’s panic. Clare put her hand up to her mouth. She was close to tears but she kept telling herself to breathe out. When she turned around, she saw Sophie standing in the hallway, her little arms crossed, a contemptuous look on her face. ‘I told you we should have had Smarties, Mum!’ Clare opened her mouth to respond to her daughter but stopped. Something was burning …
The party table had lost some of its allure. The sausage rolls were burnt. The cheerios were overcooked and had popped out of their red skins, revealing their obscene flesh-coloured insides. Even the jelly oranges were a disappointment. They hadn’t set properly and had melted quickly outside. Now they lay in little pools of red, yellow and green on the plate. And Sophie, when she saw Laura in her new flower costume, burst into tears and had to be sent to her bedroom.
Clare looked at her watch. Thankfully the party was nearly over. Some of the other parents had already arrived to pick up their children and were standing, chatting with each other, around the table. At least the birthday cake looked lovely. Sophie stopped crying the moment she saw the candles being lit. After everyone had sung ‘Happy Birthday’, some of the mothers complimented Clare on the beautiful cake and Clare had to tell them that Joanna had made it.
‘Where is Joanna?’ Wendy wanted to know, having just arrived from work to pick up Madeline.
‘She’s gone to the Royal with Sam so that he can have his stomach pumped.’
‘Oh!’ said Wendy, understanding immediately from the tone of Clare’s voice that further questions would not be welcome.
The other parents, overhearing this conversation, momentarily cast a suspicious eye on the food their children were being served.
At last it was time for everyone to go home. David handed out twenty-five lolly bags while trying to reassure Tom, who’d come to pick up Jake after receiving a rather distressed phone call from Joanna. Sophie and William disappeared into Sophie’s room and promptly shook the entire contents of the foldout Barbie house onto the floor. Clare, feeling tearful, boiled the kettle and made herself a strong cup of tea.
One last piece of birthday cake remained. Clare looked longingly at it before sitting down on a cushion, amid the collection of broken party blowers and orange peels and half-sucked, soggy chips. She picked up the cake. It smelt lemony. She took a bite. Soft and buttery, strangely consoling, utterly delicious. The tang of the lemon-flavoured icing acted as a perfect foil for the sweet fluffy cake. She took another bite. The pink sugar tingled on her tongue. She ate it all and the tears in the corners of her eyes dried up. She had to laugh. What a disaster!
She heard Sophie calling her, ‘Mum, we can’t put the Barbie house together by ourselves!’
Clare sighed. She would have to go and help them. David was still talking to Tom at the front gate. She sipped the last of her tea and reflected on the chaos of the party. She had so wanted everything to be perfect. To feel that perhaps she was a good mother after all. At least the cake had been good. Better than good. She must tell Joanna, after she had apologised again for putting inedible seeds in the pass the parcel, that the cake had been … perfect.
SHADOWS
Wendy checked her children one last time before work. The house was quiet, sleeping, and her rubber-heeled shoes stole soundlessly across the bare pine floorboards. Sometimes, at night, the house had ghosts. Watchful spirits with corrugated shadows moved across the vertical joinery of the walls. Usually Wendy’s practical mind ignored the dark shapes which peeped out of the corners of the eighty-year-old house. They were harmless enough and only as real as her mind allowed them to be. Tonight, however, these barely perceptible shapes made her uneasy. She spun around and banished the shadows by staring through them. It was a dare. She turned on the light in the kitchen. That was better. All gone now.
In the dim light she saw through Maddy’s doorway. Maddy was sprawled awkwardly across her bed, her pillow dipping down onto the floor. Wendy inched the last bit of pillow out from under Maddy’s head and straightened it up again. She heaved her little blonde daughter back into a more conventional position and tucked her in, as she always did, with hospital corners at the end of the bed. She kissed her soft cheek and turned on the night light to banish the shadows to the corner of the room.
Daniel had fallen asleep playing his Gameboy and Wendy unclasped his hands and put the toy on the chest of drawers. She looked at his face, relaxed now in the sleep that only children manage to achieve. A deep, restful sleep that, for a child, takes place in the blink of an eye. A sleep that has no memory. She smoothed back his hair and pulled the quilt around his shoulders. He was growing up. He wouldn’t be her little boy much longer. He was scarcely that now, the way he shrugged off all her attempts at affection. And Maddy? She was growing up fast. Faster than she should now that she was modelling her behaviour on Daniel’s.
Wendy sighed. She felt like she was missing out on her own children. Still, she was missing out for them. When they were born, she and Harry had decided that they were going to give them every opportunity. School fees were expensive.
She picked up a dirty sock, took it out to the laundry, then looked at her watch. Just enough time to hang out a load of washing before work.
It was a surreal experience, hanging up the washing in the night. The house backed onto bushland and the crisp, cold air was full of the sounds of animals and birds. During the day, they were tucked away in the hollows of eucalypts or hidden in the long creek grass. Now the night was full of the sharp-throated gurgles and clicks of a family of ring-tails that lived in an old lilly pilly beside the creek. Somewhere in the long grasses that edged the creek, a nocturnal curlew cried out mournfully. Wendy shuddered. She was edgy tonight and the bird call aroused in her a sense of foreboding.
