I Lived with My Aunt

By Sandra Turner

Using an emerald ring, handed down from aunt to niece the story follows a matrilineal line of an Australian family, from their escape from the Russian pogroms in the mid 1800s to modern day Queensland. While primarily a work of fiction, the more bizarre occurrences are based on real events that happened in the authors family. The author read an anecdote in the Readers Digest many years ago: A man was watching his wife bake a leg of ham & she chopped off the hock before putting in the pan. He asked her why she did that & she explained it was done that way, she didnt know why but her mother had always done it that way. He went to his mother-in-law and asked why? She explained she did not know, but her mother had always done it that way. He then visited his grandmother in law at the retirement home & asked her why she always cut off the hock before baking. The old lady replied, its the only way it would fit in the pan. The emerald also does not fit in the pan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jun 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499000924

Sandra Turner

As one of 11 children, Sandra Turner grew up with a maternal aunt in Maryborough Qld. Sandra has 2 daughters & 3 granddaughters & currently resides in Ipswich Qld. I Lived With My Aunt is her first novel and she is currently working on her second, Divided Spirit with a preview of the first 3 chapters at the end of this novel.

Book preview

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

There are many people who have assisted in the writing of this book. Alas the vast majority were subjected to a continual, rambling of my gunna thoughts and in the majority of cases, were extremely supportive. Those that told me to buggar off, mainly because I was boring them to death, I say thank you anyway. For those who listened and encouraged I say a double thank you, and to name a few, thank you to Peter Bingham and Allan Gurnett, who were emphatic that I could not wear an emerald of that size and tell people I bought it. It must be a family heirloom. After about three bottles of champagne, we all decided not to let the truth get in the way of a good story. Next, my two daughters, Karen Harbilas and Naomi Turner. Karen for her vast knowledge of the written word and the delicate way she told me. Naomi for the unfailing, love, support and encouragement showered on me during the process. I love you both. Two of my sisters, Jeanette Barnett and Daphne Hibberd for the preview readings and suggestions. My mum, Joyce Luckman for the stories of the 40’s and 50’s, I only wish you were still with us to see it in print. A big thank you to the Heller family of Toongabbie, especially to Liz, who surreptitiously gave it the first public viewing in the name of market research, with very positive results. Also my cousin Mitchell Cooper for her input, thanks Sis. Sarah Merrick also assisted with editing, and yes Sarah there were too many commas. Andrew Spark, graphic artist extraordinaire for the cover, thank you Andrew, remember, I was to look mysterious in the photo. Also to staff at Xlibris for keeping me on track and making the book a reality. Thank you All!

Sandra Turner

CHAPTER ONE

Rural Russia 1848

Jacob stood by his beloved Rachael’s bed and watched the life ebb out of his wife’s body. It was flowing nearly as fast as the blood, following his son’s birth yesterday. There was no longer a doctor in the village. Old Doctor Samuel had died two harvests before and his son, Young Doctor Samuel had been killed in a Cossack raid in a neighbouring village three weeks past.

While Czar Alexander ruled the country, his Cossacks were unspokenly given free reign with the serfs, Jews and gypsies. Second only to torturing the Romany’s, their greatest pleasure was raiding Jewish villages and slaughtering the inhabitants. The pogroms were carried out for pure pleasure and with the silent assent of those in power. No one was safe. Whole villages were burnt and all inhabitants, including children, some still swaddled, were viciously murdered. Only those fortunate enough to escape detection in the surrounding fields and woods could hope for salvation. At least for now.

The marauders would appear suddenly, the only warning was the sound like thunder. Not the thunder that heralded the life giving rain, but the thunder of horses’ hooves that heralded death. People of the shetetl would scatter, desperately trying to keep their children, their future, from the fatal blows of horse’s hooves and swinging lances. A much sought after trophy was the body of a boy baby speared and held upright on a lance, showing the scars of circumcision, while the mother was dragged for many versts behind the triumphant soldier. The Cossacks then rode thunderously away with terrified, very young girl children slung heavily across their saddles for the night’s drunken entertainment. These bloodthirsty soldiers of the Czar were always laughing and cheering, at their success and leaving the smoke billowing up to the northern sky. The bodies were also left: making a feast for the wild animals that came with the night. Over time, nature and other peasants would remove and scatter all trace of the once bustling village.

Looking at his third born son crying lustily in his crib, Jacob was thinking of the future with dread. Third born and only one living, would he live as long as his oldest brother, Rueben, two and a half years? Or as his next son Aaron, eleven months? Both were taken in the flu epidemic that seethed insidiously across Europe two years before, purging the country of the very old and the young. With the wrath of nature and the malevolence of the Cossacks, would any Jewish children in Russia live to adulthood? He would not stand by and see his son impaled for some bloodthirsty soldier’s enjoyment! What could he do to stop the ravenous bands? How many could he kill before they took him and his family? Would any other man in the village stand with him? No! They would fall to their knees and pray! He was alone! Perhaps there was one who would stand with him!

By the standards of the village, both he and Rachael had been well off. There was one roadway through the shetetl. At the southern end were shacks and obvious signs of poverty and hardship. Dwellings became more comfortable as the road moved north. Jacob was the village carpenter and wheelwright, so made a good living for them both and they lived in the centre of the village. Rachael had been the only daughter of Abraham, the silversmith, goldsmith and jeweler, as his father before him, so she came with a good dowry although she had moved south from her father’s house. Her wedding portion had been comprised of the land on which Jacob had built their home. Containing two rooms it was palatial by most of the village standards. She had also brought with her the emerald. This magnificent gem hung on a gold chain around her neck and had been left to her by her great-aunt.

A rare perfect emerald, with a distinct blue tint, it was the size of his small fingernail. He and Rachael had had plans to travel behind a gypsy caravan to the ocean and escape the horror and fear of their current life. One half day behind the gypsies was safest form of travel for wandering solitary Jews. As long as it was a small party they could hide easily in roadside ditches and forests, knowing the attraction of many gypsy vans would be more alluring to the marauding Cossacks. The emerald was to have been their passage to a new life and freedom. He couldn’t face the trek without his wife. He could however save his son.

Jacob carefully removed the emerald from his wife’s neck. Her eyelids fluttered and she smiled with an understanding and supportive glance and whispered, make them leave soon. He bent to the crib he had made, first for Rueben, then his cherished Aaron and now for this child, and gently took his son in his arms. He wrapped him in the soft, warm animal skin and went from the house to the northern end of the village, to knock on the door of Peter Mendelssohn, the village teacher and his brother in law.

Peter and Jacob had been firm friends since boyhood, closer than most blooded brothers. Peter was the second son of the district Rabbi and as such had received a good education in Kiev. Jacob’s father had believed that the only schooling his son had needed was enough to read the Talmud. The rest of his education should be in his manual skills and had trained him thus. Only Peter had understood Jacob’s thirst for knowledge and so had undertaken his friend’s education on his yearly visits home. This education had also comprised some radical views that Peter had embraced at the university. He had become a dedicated disciple of Spinoza and taught his friend these new views on freedom and equality.

Jacob had a more fiery nature than his friend and was used to the more physical side of life. It was no wonder that he adopted these new views in a more physically passionate idiom. Both were now ready to die for freedom, but where Peter believed education was the means to freedom, Jacob was impatient and willing to kill for it. Had he been born two thousand years before, Jacob would have been a loyal and active member of the Zealots. Both men agreed that they had to remove their families to safety and freedom, even if they were not sure where safety and freedom were. They would have left last spring, but both wives had been with child.

Jacob’s sister Anya answered the knock. Brother and sister had unusual blonde colouring, a legacy from some long dead Nordic great-grandparents. She was holding her three-month-old daughter named Rachael for Jacob’s wife, in her arms. Putting her baby in the crib, Anya took the crying infant from her brother, settled by the fire and put him to her breast. He sucked hungrily and was quiet except for the loud slurping as he drank noisily.

Peter rose from a chair in the corner of the room and slowly and methodically removed his spectacles. Unhooking first the right ear, then the left and then massaging the bridge of his nose. Every child who had been taught by Peter could copy this habit, usually with cries of, Who am I? Who am I? Liked and respected by the villagers and his pupils, he was nonetheless still the object of playful ridicule, as often happens with someone in a role of authority.

Jacob, he said, holding out his hand in support, we can be ready to leave within the week. Will Rachael be able to travel?

You must leave without us, he replied, not meeting his sister’s eyes. It will take a few months for her to regain her strength and we will follow when she is well.

Concentrating on changing her nephew to the other breast, Anya said, We will wait!

Her brother looked at her in alarm, NO! he cried, You must leave now, while you can still reach the ocean. The snows will be here within three months and we will not be able to travel. The gypsies have only three days start and my wagon is packed and sturdy. I made the wheels myself and they are the best that you will find. You must take my son and leave immediately. Someone must live through this.

Anya started to protest, but was silenced by her husband. We must think of the children. Our Rachael and, looking to his brother in law with understanding eyes, what name have you decided to give your son?

I have not thought of that, replied Jacob.

Then he will be Jacob also, said his sister firmly, "then we know at least one Jacob and Rachael will live in freedom.

Jacob handed Rachael the emerald and said, Take this and use it to give him a good life.

She took it from him and it disappeared in the folds of her skirt, hidden in some secret feminine place with the other gems and gold that they saved and stored for their future. Peter and I will look after him as our own, Anya looked at her brother and wiped her damp eyes.

I know, otherwise Rachael would have insisted on leaving as she is and would not have lasted out the hour. Please be ready to leave at first light in the morning. Jacob picked up his son to take him home so that his mother could spend a few valuable hours with him before parting with her child forever.

The wagon rolled out of the village just as the sky was turning pink. Jacob watched it roll in the direction of the ocean, with its precious cargo of children sleeping wrapped and warm in the back. Peter had traded his Hasidic attire for that of a Russian peasant. He wore an embroidered shirt, hanging outside his full trousers and belted at the waist. His trousers were bunched into folds and tucked into his boots. With her hair tied under a course scarf, Anya wore a full peasant’s skirt and embroidered blouse with a sheepskin jerkin under her warm fur cloak. There had been tears of course, but all knew the right decision had been made. When the wagon was out of sight, Jacob returned to his wife’s bedside to await her death and the sound of angry galloping hooves heralding his own personal Masada, which he knew would come eventually. But, he thought with satisfaction, TOO LATE!

CHAPTER TWO

Ipswich Queensland

Monday 3rd January 1984

The rambling old Queenslander, built to catch the breeze, stood tall on its half acre block. It was glistening white in the Queensland sun and bedecked in ornate iron lace. A wide, cool verandah with hanging baskets of ferns surrounded it on three sides, one of which sported a banner proudly proclaiming, Foster Family Reunion 1788-1984.

There was bustling activity everywhere. Cars with interstate number plates being driven in and out of the long tree lined driveway as men were sent unwillingly on errands to ‘just grab’ a forgotten item. Items, that as men they could see no need for, but that their wife, sister or mother knew would ruin the day without it.

Surly teenagers were being commissioned also unwillingly, to carry chairs and tables and knives and forks and plates to the cleared lawn area at the side of the house where the lunch was to be served. They would never return within earshot of their distracted mothers lest they be given yet another job to do. They were more interested in catching up with cousins they had not seen for a couple of years and sneaking a sly smoke away from the not so watchful eyes of their parents.

Younger children were running unrestrained in the large, wild garden that had hidden interesting corners and climbable trees. They were being chased and followed by a weird assortment of barking, tail wagging dogs that thought that nothing could be as much fun as this.

Inside the high ceiling home plates of cold meats, dishes of salads, bowls of trifle were sitting on top of valuable antiques with no thought given to what the crockery could do to the restored surfaces. On this day, Isobella, the eldest of the eight children and owner of the home, paid no heed to such indiscretions. There was far too much to do if lunch for forty people was to be served by noon.

The celebration was to be a family reunion, in which all of the family of eight children, their respective spouses and children were to gather. There had never before been an occasion where the whole family had gathered together at the one time. Enid, mother and grandmother to the brood was to have her first photograph taken with all her children in it together. The eldest, Isobella was forty and the youngest, Phoebe was twenty-five.

The family was very much alike in looks and often mistaken for each other by casual acquaintances. They were not a tall group with Godfrey the third eldest being the tallest at five foot eight. Amelia, the second youngest stood at just five feet. All had mousy brown hair that the five girls coloured in shades ranging from ash blonde to hot ginger. Eyes reached shades from dark brown to green and all had laughter lines, which crinkled at the corners, evidencing an active and constant sense of humour in all faces.

Has Alistair arrived yet? Enid asked of no particular person.

Not yet, was the chorus in answer.

Miranda, where is he? Enid directed to his twin who was doing her nails and not helping with the preparations. Not one to enjoy manual labor, Miranda had wanted to have the afternoon catered.

Am I my brother’s keeper? was the sarcastic reply.

Yes you are! the chorus answered again.

Miranda and Alistair were twins and the middle children. They shared a house and Miranda bossed and babied her brother, younger by fifteen minutes. She also covered for him where their Mother was concerned, a habit left over from childhood. He was habitually late, unreliable and had been a heavy drug user. He was also an accomplished artist. Miranda understood his behaviour, believing it to be a result of his creativity.

He’ll be here! Miranda replied confidently adding in her brother’s defence, Aunty Emily and Aunty Elouise aren’t here yet either!

This statement was in reference to Enid’s two sisters who were also coming to the gathering. They both lived in other parts of the state and were using the party as an excuse to visit. Enid had been so looking forward to the day. She had contained her excitement very well and none of her children knew the depth of her exhilaration. Never one to show emotion, some thought her to be rather cold and unapproachable. The truth was that in her life she had had to learn to contain her emotions and ‘keep a stiff upper lip’ as a defense mechanism. Her life had never been easy until after the death of her husband four years before, who had fortunately left her his Gold card and healthy pension.

Call the kids up and they can start taking the food down, Constance asked of Phoebe. Phoebe, slipping naturally into her role of the youngest was acting as general gopher during the preparations. Her input was to mix drinks, pass that, and find this. She undertook all the tasks willingly while interjecting with funny comments bordering on sarcasm.

Under the house the boys as the elder brothers, Hugh and Godfrey were known, had taken on the very serious task of setting up the bar. This consisted of two round galvanized iron tubs that had once been used as bathtubs, being filled with ice and stubbies of XXXX. They were placed in the coolest area under the house. Suspended above a plastic rubbish bin by a long piece of string attached to a supporting beam, were two bottle openers. Soft drinks and wine shared one of the tubs with beer. An old square pine table stood beside the tubs with foam stubby coolers, plastic cups and a large MacDonald’s cordial dispenser for the children placed on it.

As the final stubby was placed in the ice, the boys motioned to their brothers in law to advance and test the coldness of the beer. Swallowing and sighing with pleasure as the cold liquid flowed down to his stomach, Hugh looked around and asked, isn’t Alistair here yet? It is after twelve.

As if on cue, the noise of a vehicle could be heard turning the corner. As the eight-seater van pulled into the driveway, a chorus of Aunty Emily and Aunty Elouise are here, could be heard. Enid’s sisters alighted from the Tarago and greeted Enid with a hug. We made it, Emily said, as the side door of the van opened and various kids, cousins and bags fell out. The three now old ladies, Emily, Enid and Elouise greeted each other warmly.

Emily’s eldest daughter, Alexandra, alighted from the driver’s seat. Hullo everybody! she said in greeting, where’s that Clayton’s sister of mine?

I’m here! answered Constance going forward to be caught in Alexandra’s warm embrace.

One of Amelia’s young sons had overheard the exchange. Puzzled he turned to his aunt and asked, Aunty Con, she’s not your sister is she? Aren’t you my Mummy’s sister?

Rubbing her nephew on his blonde head Constance replied with a smile, Yes I’m your Mummy’s sister. But Alexandra feels like my sister too, because when I was a girl, I lived with my Aunt!

Alistair’s unexplained and late arrival had delayed the meal. Consequently it was past three o’clock before the remnants of lunch had been cleared away. Babies and small children were deposited on any available bed or couch to have their afternoon sleep. Younger children had quieted considerably and were wading in the small pool filled for them by a caring dad. Sated dogs had collapsed in any cool spot they could find. Teenagers, still smarting from having to stand with parents and younger siblings to be photographed, had taken a portable cassette player and half a dozen stolen stubbies to the shady gazebo as far from the adults as possible. One of them had tried marijuana at a recent party and they wanted the details from this very sophisticated and worldly cousin.

For the adults, a lazy ambience had descended over them and the game of remember when had developed from their desultory conversation. This consisted of someone bringing up an experience from the past, usually in hindsight uproariously funny that would have everyone laughing noisily.

Remember when you went into the rabbit business Mother? Hugh asked, and many chuckles followed his remark. The youngest adults, who at the last family gathering had been the ones hiding in the gazebo, came in with a chorus of, Tell us! Tell us!

At that time Enid’s husband, also Hugh but called by the nickname of Huggy, and father to the brood of eight, was a self employed rabbit trapper, receiving the princely sum of 2/6d a pair, a reasonable wage in the early 1950’s. This was the bounty paid by the government on rabbits that had reached plague proportions in the western grazing areas. The family had moved to Goondoowindi in western Queensland to earn their living. In true entrepreneur style, Huggy had brought the first pair of working ferrets into Queensland and thus was going to make his fortune at 2/6d a pair. He never once concerned himself with the fact that the ferrets were illegal; he had had a brilliant idea and could make a fortune. Just one of many get rich quick schemes the family had embarked upon over the years on this charmer’s say so.

The routine was that he and Enid would put a small net over each rabbit burrow. Huggy would then release the ferrets under the nets. They would scramble down the burrows and the frightened rabbits then ran madly out to be caught in the net. It was then a simple matter to reach under the net, pull out a rabbit, hold it with forelegs in one hand, hind legs in the other, stretch the animal, twist the two sets of legs in opposite directions, and then crack it hard over a raised knee, breaking it’s spine, causing instant death. Hey presto! You have earned 1/3d.

With six children under the age of ten, Enid was recruited to assist. It took quite a few 2/6ds to feed the family. Hugh carefully explained the procedure and demonstrated it as well, more than once. Being mindful of her role as dutiful wife and assistant breadwinner, Enid watched carefully and learnt well. Can you do that? Huggy asked his wife.

No trouble, said Enid, bending to pick up a wriggling, terrified rabbit. Not looking into the fearful animal’s eyes, Enid firmly grasped the hind legs, and then the forelegs, stretched, twisted and then heard the resounding crack of the spine as she thumped it down across her knee. With a self-satisfied smirk, she threw the rabbit over her shoulder in the professional manner of her husband. Bending to pick up her next victim, she watched from the corner of her eye as her previous prey ran across the dry paddock at high speed, none the worse for his close call with death.

A bit harder across the knee, Love, said the amused voice of her husband.

With the assembled group chuckling good naturedly, Enid remarked with pursed lips, Yes the ferrets worked quite well for a while and then they stopped, I wonder why?

Her eldest three children looked at each other sheepishly, and then burst into laughter. Approaching middle age, it was good to be on an adult basis with your parent and know that you could not be punished for past indiscretions. What happened? asked a newer member of the adult clique.

Hugh explained, Mother and Father used to go into town once a week. It was a drive of some thirty-five miles and in the car of the day a wooden tray backed ute, it was an all day trip. We stayed on the property. As soon as they were out of sight, we would go and dig burrows about arm’s length in the area at the back of the house. Amelia had a small knitted rabbit. It was her baby toy. She wasn’t two yet. We would hide this rabbit down one of the homemade burrows and put the ferrets down to see which one would find it first. Whichever one found it would come bounding out of the burrow, shaking it like a dog with a tug’ o’ war toy. After playing like this for about a month, the ferrets refused to work in the real burrows. We had turned them from working animals into pets. Father had to go back to trapping after that.

The game continued on with Emily, Elouise and Enid entertaining their sons, daughters, nieces and nephews by contributing tales of their own growing up experiences in rural Australia. The three old ladies were as close as possible considering their upbringing. There were reservations in their closeness due to their childhood care. They never had the benefit of all childhood experiences together and their adult relationship suffered because of this. Being separated for many years during their childhood, and finding each other at different times in their life, had produced this rent in their relationship. A relationship, all three desperately wanted and needed, but did not know how to initiate.

Who’s for another beer? cried Godfrey. Hands shot up all over the group. Well grab me one while you’re there! He guffawed loudly and dodged the flying missiles launched by the assembled company.

Enid stood and motioning to her two sisters said, you may all have another beer, but I think we three shall go upstairs and make a good stiff cup of tea. Emily and Elouise followed her up the stairs to the cool of the kitchen verandah.

I hope they do the rest of the dishes while they are up there, someone remarked, over the sound of tops being removed from beer bottles. There was an old dartboard hung under the house and darts were unearthed from a drawer in yet another antique sideboard awaiting restoration. A viciously competitive game of darts ensued with the first round being as had been all their lives, the boys against the girls. With a five to three advantage, the girls soon trounced them soundly.

As usually happened at family functions, while the siblings were good naturedly fighting to the death over some game, their respective partners were left to their own devices. This had often been a bone of contention between husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend in their relationships, diluted by the closeness of the eight children. The family was close as friends as well as brothers and sisters, naturally gravitating to each other. Constance’s second husband was heard to remark nastily at their divorce, I was only wanted for sex and shopping. She already had her kids and did not need a baby-sitter. If she wanted a confidante or to make a major decision, she asked a brother or sister. He had looked up from that remark to catch the eye of Hugh who stared him down with an unspoken threat in Constance’s defense.

During their childhood the eight children had moved many times from town to town and had learnt to stand together as ‘the new kids’ in school. While they had lived on properties the elder children had never been able to attend school. Enid had taught them to read and write from books that she owned. The main two were, The Complete Works Of Banjo Patterson and The Poetry and Prose of Henry Lawson. Thirty years later and for the rest of their lives, they would be able to recite verbatim the twenty-six verses of the Man from Snowy River with a much better rendition being done under the influence of alcohol.

The first six children had all left school at age fourteen after sitting for the State Examination, Scholarship. This was held at the end of grade eight in Queensland and Constance had sat for the last one held in 1962. At that time, this level of education could get one an apprenticeship, entry into nursing and the armed forces. This lack of education in no way hindered or suppressed the family’s drive or ambition. In fact it fed it and their desire to prove and advance themselves. They developed an I must win streak in their attitude to life. This overflowed into relationships as well as their business lives.

I’m giving it to Constance. I have it with me and I’m going to give it to her today. Emily told her two sisters, I need you to back me up, because Alexandra believes it will be hers. I have never said that it would be, she just believes that because she is my eldest that it naturally belongs to her.

Why now, Emily? Asked her sister Enid, taking the teapot to the sink and cleaning it out while she spoke. Why don’t you leave it for a few more years? I know Constance’s company is having very hard times, she may sell it because she needs the money.

Emily looked at her two sisters and her eyes filled with tears. They have discovered a mass on my other kidney and since that is the only one left, I don’t know what will happen. I want to do it now, so that if anything happens it is sorted out while I am still in control of what transpires. Elouise reached over and squeezed her older sister’s hand. Emily shook her head, intimating not to speak of her illness at this time.

Taking her cue from her sister, and her natural inclination to ignore anything unpleasant, Enid said, but she needs the money. You know what she’s like, everything now, immediately! Can you make sure everyone knows it is hers, but hold off giving it to her at this time? Enid filled the teapot with boiling water and took it to the table.

"How many times have I needed the money and not sold it? How badly off was Aunty Beatrice without selling it? And heaven knows about Emily and Molly. Yet it is still here. Still giving continuity to the generations and a knowledge of what went before. She must learn the history of it. What it has given to the women of this family. I have faith that Constance will do what is right. It is Alexandra that concerns me. I know she received all that jewelry from Gran and her father. Collectively it is worth much more than the emerald, but she believes love is what you give materially and she will see this as me caring more for Constance than for her.

Enid thought privately to herself as she poured the tea into the Noritake cups, that that was exactly how Alexandra thought. Spoiled child, always preying on her Mother’s guilt for leaving her with her Grandmother, even though there was a war on at the time and she was much better off. Basically, the woman was nearing 50, it was about time she grew up and got over it. The other life would have been practically that of a camp follower’s brat, had she stayed with Emily.

Of course we’re with you Emily, said Elouise and chose to ignore Emily’s request not to speak of her illness. Now what about your health? Is there a chance that it is nothing at all?

What lovely cups, so nice to sip out of fine china instead of thick mugs, Emily remarked and turned to Elouise and said impatiently, Yes Elouise, of course there is a chance. But what do you think? I am nearly 64 years old; I am an alcoholic, even though I have been sober for 10 years. I took a packet of Bex a day for over 20 years! I have lost one kidney to cancer already. Emily looked down at the table and then back up at her youngest sister and said vehemently through gritted teeth, WHAT DO YOU DAMN WELL THINK ELOUISE? and promptly burst into angry, contrite tears. I am sorry Elouise, so sorry. That was completely uncalled for and I had no right to speak to you that way. I am just so scared and so angry with myself. I would do it all so differently the second time around.

Wouldn’t we all? said Enid resignedly, handing Emily a tissue and reaching over and squeezing Elouise’s hand in silent support. She gave an involuntary shiver at the memory of Emily combining two Bex into the one envelope, raising it to her mouth and pouring the powder to the back of her tongue to swallow with her early morning cup of tea. Enid was the link between her sisters, getting on well with both of them. They sometimes clashed, or rather Emily clashed with Elouise. It appeared to Enid that Emily found Elouise’s caring attitude rather cloying and smothering. No wonder though, in her own perception, Emily was unaccustomed to people caring for her without either hurting her regularly or having an ulterior motive, so why should she think Elouise was any different? Enid realized that she and she alone, was the only person whom her sister trusted fully. Elouise was merely bewildered and confused with her sister’s attitude.

You know, said Emily, her equilibrium restored, or was it true feelings suppressed? At 20, you know you have everything before you and 64 seems so far away. Time to do and experience everything and settle down when you’re older. At 40, 64 still seems so far away. You still feel 20 inside, and you still have time to finish everything and you still have time to settle down, later. Suddenly, you are 64, you are a grandparent, you still feel 20 inside but you have to realize that you are not. It takes you a good 3 minutes to walk upright when you get out of bed and your body makes very loud noises you can’t control. It takes you twice as long to do half as much. There are so many things you didn’t do because you have wasted all those years. You look back and wonder what happened to your life, your relationships and gain such understanding in hindsight. Why do we make much better grandparents than we did parents? We do it so much better with the grandchildren don’t we?

As if rapport were an alarm clock, the sounds of stirring children could be heard. Yes, said Enid matter of factly and with no desire to analyse why,