by Rue Chapman
"Can you read each other's minds?" That's the second question they always ask.
No, but I always know what she's thinking - everyone does, her emotions are always clear on her face.
But the big one is, "Are you identical?"
There's a certain kind of male who drools as he asks that question. No, we're not identical, we're fraternal twins. That's when they look disappointed and lose interest; we're definitely second best in the twin stakes.
Oh, and we don't have our own language, unless you count the meaningful nods, winks and raised eyebrows that every woman uses in wordless conversation.
And then there's the rest of it - the opposites game. "Which one is the good one and which is the naughty one? The quiet one and the noisy one ... the mean one and the nice one ... the hardworking one and the lazy one? The smart one and the dumb one?" As if we have to be totally different from each other.
And the answer to that is ... neither of us is the 'one' of anything. We can each be quiet or noisy ... mean or nice ... hardworking or lazy ... smart or dumb ... as the mood takes us. And definitely naughty AND good. Or, as our mother used to say, 'good and naughty'.
So, we're twins. Rosemary and Jasmine (Two of our mother's favourite plants in the garden. Could have been worse - we could have been Pansy and Geranium.) ... Rosie and Jazz to our friends.
And right at this moment I could answer 'Yes I can read her mind.' But then so could anyone within hearing range.
"They'll hate me!"
"They won't hate you."
"They'll say I'm not good enough for him!"
"You're perfect for him."
"They'll ... they'll ... they'll look at me!"
"We'll charge admission. Put it towards the wedding reception."
"You don't understand!"
"I've got a pretty good idea. And please stop squeezing my throat."
Rosie released her death grip and stepped back a little. I tried to edge her away from the knife drawer. "Look, you're just meeting his relatives. Of course they want to see you, you're joining his family. They'll welcome you with open arms. You're sweet and lovely and unarmed. What's not to like?"
"I'm NOBODY. They're big and rich and important, they'll think I'm some cheap gold-digger!"
"That's better than an expensive gold-digger, surely." Nope, levity didn't help. "Ok, look, this is simple. You pick out a sweet, demure outfit. You make reservations at a nice restaurant. You eat a meal with them and prove that you can use cutlery and don't chew with your mouth open. You stay reasonably sober, laugh at their jokes, and look adoringly at their son. And they'll love you."
She hurled herself towards me. I tried to fend her off, but she clung to me like a demented limpet and wailed like a banshee. "Noooo they want to come HERE! They want me to cook a meal for them! And it's not just his parents, it's ALL of them, the whole family! His parents and grandmother and brother and sister and her husband and children and probably their pets as well!"
"Dump him and marry an orphan."
"Jazzeeeeeeeee!"
Darn. It's her crisis, so I have to be the sensible one. We take it in turns.
"Right. Not a problem. We'll spring clean this place, and make a menu and a shopping list. Then get your hair done and a nice outfit. No worries. How long do we have?"
"They're coming today!"
I wrenched myself from her limpet-like grip. "Today? TODAY? You do know that today is Good Friday? That everything is closed? Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I didn't KNOW! They called Lochie half an hour ago. They've all been on some family pilgrimage to visit some ancient great-aunt and thought it would be nice to drop by on their way home! Tonight!"
Which explained the incoherent phone call I'd received twenty-seven minutes ago. I'd answered her distress call expecting a more usual crisis - bad hair or a broken nail or dead computer. His family must have decided that things were getting serious and wanted to check her out for themselves as soon as they got the chance.
Rosie and Lochlan had been dating for six months, and living together for six weeks. Rosie and I are both based in the city, Lochie is from a town just over an hour away - safe from all those nasty urban influences, but a large enough town 'to provide all the amenities of civilised living' as he said his mother liked to say. Our family were doing ok, we all worked hard for a living, and expected to do well eventually. But Rosie had gradually realised, from things that Lochie said, that his family were the most important people in their home town. And were, from the money point of view, very special indeed - in fact, to her horror, she realised 'Jazz, he's rich. Really rich.'
Well, you know what God thinks about money - look at the sort of people he gives large amounts of it to - but Lochie seemed perfectly nice and normal. Of course, it was too much to hope that the rest of his family would be the same.
"And where is the love of your life now?"
"He went out to buy food. Anything. And as much alcohol as possible."
Thank goodness somebody had a firm grasp of essentials.
"Right. Details. How many are coming?"
We totalled it up - his mother, his father, grandmother, sister, brother in law, two nieces and his brother.
"So with you two it's ten for dinner. Add all the leaves to the dining table."
"Eleven. You too - you can't desert me!"
"I won't - I'm going to be the hired help."
"But you're my sister!"
"They won't know that. I'll look after the kitchen and you can be the serene and perfect hostess."
We surveyed each other for a moment. We were within an inch or so in height - she's a tiny bit taller than me, I'm a teeny bit curvier, but we can easily wear each other's clothes. We both started out with the same wavy, uninspiringly light brown hair - that lasted until we were old enough to dye. Rosie went paler - she's had long, tumbling golden blonde curls for years. With her blue eyes it looks fantastic. I tried every colour of the rainbow; currently I've got raven-black with electric blue streaks. It's elfin or spiky, depending on my mood. My eyes are a much darker blue than hers, so it looks fine. But we definitely don't look like a matched set.
"Look, for tonight I'll be your assistant, or home help, or whatever. By the time you get married and they see me again my hair will probably be shoulder length and bright orange, and they won't recognise me."
By the time Lochie got back I'd convinced her. I was wearing ankle boots, leggings and leather mini - all black, naturally. With a white blouse borrowed from Rosie I was as close to suitable as I was going to get. And we were ready to roll.
First problem - Lochie was empty-handed. "Everything's closed - it's Good Friday."
"What did your family expect you to feed them on - toasted sandwiches?"
"Look, that'd be fine, really, they're not fussy about fancy food - they just want to see us."
Rosie was making odd whimpering noises. Lochie is sweet but he's not housetrained yet. Obviously doesn't have a firm grasp of the situation. The first time you face the rels is a big thing - Rosie needed to put on a good showing, for her own self respect.
Since I was the only one not reduced to quivering mindlessness, or handicapped by a Y chromosome, I was obviously the one in charge. "Right. Let's get organised. Lochie - set a fire in the fireplace in the dining room ..." It was also the lounge room - their place was pleasantly compact, "... and get out every candle you have. We'll keep the lights low - that'll cover any housekeeping deficiencies. Then collect all the alcohol in the place. Rosie, set the table and then get upstairs and do girl stuff, make yourself look gorgeous. And clean the bathroom while you do it. I'll dig something out of your freezer - do you have a leg of lamb, or some chickens?"
Lochie called from the other room where he was already assembling candles, (I'll say this for him, he takes orders well, and fast). "It's Good Friday - it should be fish. Grandma's pretty particular about that."
Fine. Maybe I can find a tin of sardines - they can have half a sardine each. I attacked fridge, freezer and pantry, and assembled anything useful that I could find. One point in our favour - Rosie tends to buy in bulk when things are on special. She shops like a squirrel facing a long, hard winter. No logic, but a lot of enthusiasm.
Thirty minutes later the place looked great, Rosie and Lochie were the perfect couple, and I was doing miracles in the kitchen. Thirty-one minutes later the doorbell rang, and Rosie quietly went to pieces. Lochie hurried to answer the door, giving her a sharp swat on the rear as he went past. "Come on, Rosie love, get it together."
Well, didn't that give me a whole new view of their relationship. Hmmmm... That swat sure helped Rosie; by the time the guests walked in she was serene and poised. Fifteen minutes later, rather stilted greetings all round and drinks in hand (in the hopes that alcohol would loosen them all up a bit) they were ready for the meal. I started serving the appetiser.
"And who is this?" Lochie's mother watched as I moved around the table.
"Uh, this is ... Mina. She helps out around the house when I'm busy." Rosie tried to look like the kind of person who had home help.
"Oh yes, you're a ... what is it, dear? Some kind of scientist, is it? I must say, you don't look like an scientist." Mrs Winstanton seemed to expect Rosie to look like Einstein.
Lochie jumped in. "I told you, she's a plant geneticist. She's finding ways to make better vaccines by importing DNA to plants and growing them instead of ..." Technicalities followed. Rosie tried to look smart and serious.
"And you met ...?"
"At a conference." Lochie works in a rather distant corner of the same botanic field. The two of them will own their own research lab one day.
Lochie's sister Meghan looked at the bowl in front of her. "And this is ...?"
"Chilled cucumber and yoghurt soup. Ma'am. You dip the popcorn prawns in it."
"Popcorn ...?"
I indicated the heaped platter in the middle of the table. Popcorn prawns are easy. First, there's no popcorn involved. You just chop up some decent-sized prawns, roll them in breadcrumbs and fry them, then dip the popcorn-sized bits in the cucumber and yoghurt mix (dead easy to make - just drop a cucumber and some yoghurt in a blender. Then chill.) We'd found a large bag of frozen prawns, somewhat squished by Rosie's cavalier attitude to packing a freezer. (Rosie love, don't ever bump Lochie off, you'll never fit the body neatly in the freezer), so chopping them up was the best option.
They started on the prawns. Lochie's family were polite, but formal. There was a hint of frost around the edges. His mother and sister did most of the talking - and criticising. Father, brother and brother-in-law ate in stony silence. Grandma smiled at everyone, said nothing and chomped her way through a surprising number of prawns. The two nieces seemed unnaturally well behaved - I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was a general air of distant thunderclouds and tension about the whole lot of them.
The thing is, it's hard to stay formal when you're dipping prawns. Soon there was a giggle or two from the children, and the chill started to warm up just a little. I hurried to get the next course ready. Food was obviously the key.
Lochie came into the kitchen as I was dishing up. "It's going well, isn't it?"
"Uh ... I think the ice is thawing a bit."
"Well yes, they can be a bit... the thing is, they're very ... they just want to be sure that ... that I haven't fallen for some gold-digger or something."
"They love you and they want the best for you. Well, Rosie is definitely the best." And Rosie, bless her, hasn't got a gold-digging bone in her body.
Lochie grabbed another bottle of wine then gave me quick hug on the way past. "You're a gem!"
I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Go face the lions." He really is the sweetest guy - so perfect for Rosie.
I was checking the swordfish steaks when, "Oh, so your job comes with certain perks, does it?"
I spun around to see Lochie's older brother Cameron. He was a slightly taller, broader, darker and somehow sharper version of Lochie. Right now he was leaning against the kitchen cabinets, arms folded, looking disapprovingly at me. "Does your employer know that you're after her boyfriend?"
"I'm ... what?"
"Does she really need a tart like you in her house?"
Now, I'm a calm person. Easy to get on with. Pleasant, for short periods, when I have to be. But, hard as this is to believe, I do have a teeeeeny temper when someone irritates me. Right now I went from amused to irritated in a hundredth of a second, a new personal best for me. "Excuse me? You said something?"
"I said you're a cheap tart."
"Ohhhh really? And you have a lot of experience at tart recognition, do you?"
"I know one when I see one."
"And I'm sure you see plenty. In fact I'm sure most of the girls you see have a price tag. They'd need some kind of incentive to hang around you."
"Such a sharp little thing you are. And you think Lochie will give up on Rosemary and take you instead?"
"Listen, sweetie, I can get any man I want. But I don't play in other people's gardens. Lochie is taken, and Rosi - Rosemary is the nicest person I know."
"Yeah right. So the kiss and cuddle is just for the fun of it? With her in the other room?"
I poked at the food I was cooking, then waved a fork at him. "You're in my way."
"And I'll stay there, if that's what it takes to keep you away from those two."
"Fine, we'll varnish you and use you as a wall unit."
Just then his mother called him from the other room, and he slouched out with a final glare at me. Why are all the good-looking ones such total jerks? I shrugged and finished serving up then sailed into the dining room with the first plates. "Next course, everyone. Char grilled swordfish on a bed of fig, tomato and lime salsa, with a warm salad of mini capsicum and lemongrass." It was the best I could do - how can anyone have a freezer packed full of on-special swordfish steaks, and NO potatoes? I mean who runs out of potatoes?
They made interested noises as I delivered the plates and went back for more. I patted Lochie's shoulder and leaned down to whisper. "Keep the drinks flowing, they're relaxing a bit now." Then I smiled sweetly at his brother, who didn't look relaxed at all, and sailed back to the kitchen.
As I served Cameron I managed to drop a few tiny bits of salsa in his lap. "Oh dear oh dear, sir I'm so sorry, would you like me to wipe that up for you?"
He's very good at glaring. I helped myself to a glass of wine in the kitchen and giggled. This meeting was going better than I expected. Although ... I caught a few phrases as I organised the dessert, "So Rosemary dear, tell me, who are your family? Is it anyone we'd know?"
Apparently all rich people belong to the same club.
"And what are your plans for the future?"
"Is Lochie your first ... companion?"
"I suppose you'd call him a good catch, yes?"
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