The Eleventh Commandment (1998) Read online

  ‘The Prime Minister has announced the date for the election of our first President.’

  ‘You’re so slow in this country,’ said Maggie, filling a bowl with cornflakes. ‘We got rid of the British over two hundred years ago.’

  ‘It won’t take us much longer,’ said Stuart with a laugh as his wife strolled into the room in her dressing gown.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said sleepily. Maggie slid off her stool and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘You sit there and have these cornflakes while I make you an omelette. You really mustn’t …’

  ‘Mother, I’m pregnant, not dying of consumption,’ said Tara. ‘I’ll be just fine with a bowl of cornflakes.’

  ‘I know, it’s just that …’

  ‘… you’ll never stop worrying,’ said Tara, putting her arms around her mother’s shoulders. ‘I’ll let you in on a secret. There is no medical evidence that miscarriages are hereditary; only fussing mothers. What’s the big story this morning?’ she asked, looking across at Stuart.

  ‘My case in the criminal court has made the headlines - on page sixteen,’ he said, pointing to three short paragraphs tucked away in the bottom left-hand corner.

  Tara read the report through twice before saying, ‘But they don’t even mention your name.’

  ‘No. They seem to be more interested in my client at the moment,’ admitted Stuart. ‘But if I get him off, that could change.’

  ‘I hope you don’t get him off,’ said Maggie as she broke a second egg. ‘I think your client is a little creep, and ought to spend the rest of his life in jail.’

  ‘For stealing $73?’ said Stuart in disbelief.

  ‘From a defenceless old woman.’

  ‘But it was the first time.’

  ‘The first time he was caught, I think you mean,’ said Maggie.

  ‘You know, Maggie, you would have made a first-class prosecuting counsel,’ said Stuart. ‘You should never have agreed to taking a sabbatical this year - you should have enrolled in law school instead. Mind you, I suspect life imprisonment for stealing $73 might not go down that big with everyone.’

  ‘You’d be surprised, young man,’ retorted Maggie.

  There was a thud on the doormat. ‘I’ll get it,’ said Stuart, rising from the table.

  ‘Stuart’s right,’ said Tara, as her mother placed an omelette in front of her. ‘You shouldn’t waste your time being an unpaid housekeeper. You’re far too good for that.’

  ‘Thank you, my darling,’ said Maggie. She returned to the stove and cracked another egg. ‘But I enjoy being with you both. I only hope I’m not outstaying my welcome.’

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ said Tara. ‘But it’s been over six months since …’

  ‘I know, darling, but I still need a little longer before I can face going back to Washington. I’ll be fine by the time the fall semester begins.’

  ‘But you don’t even accept invitations to things you’d enjoy.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Last week Mr Moore invited you to Fidelio at the Opera House, and you told him you were already going out that evening.’

  ‘To be honest, I can’t remember what I was doing,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I can. You sat in your room reading Ulysses.’

  ‘Tara, Ronnie Moore is a sweet man, and I have no doubt that whatever it is he does at the bank, he does very well. But what he doesn’t need is to spend an evening with me being reminded how much I miss your father. And I certainly don’t need to spend an evening with him being told how much he adored his late wife, whatever her name was.’

  ‘Elizabeth,’ said Stuart, as he returned clutching the morning post. ‘Ronnie’s rather nice actually.’

  ‘Not you as well,’ said Maggie. ‘The time has come for you both to stop worrying about my social life.’ She placed an even larger omelette in front of Stuart.

  ‘I should have married you, Maggie,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘You’d have been far more suitable than most of the men you’ve been trying to fix me up with,’ she said, patting her son-in-law on the head.

  Stuart laughed and started sorting out the letters, the bulk of which were for him. He passed a couple over to Tara and three to Maggie, and pushed his own little pile to one side in favour of the sports section of the Herald.

  Maggie poured herself a second cup of coffee before she turned to her post. As always, she studied the stamps before deciding in which order she would open them. Two of them carried the same portrait of George Washington. The third displayed a colourful picture of a kookaburra. She tore open the Australian letter first. When she had finished reading it, she passed it across the table to Tara, whose smile became broader with each paragraph she read.

  ‘Very flattering,’ said Tara, handing the letter to Stuart.

  Stuart read it through quickly. ‘Yes, very. How will you respond?’

  ‘I’ll write back explaining that I’m not in the job market,’ said Maggie. ‘But not until I discover which one of you I have to thank for it.’ She waved the letter in the air.

  ‘Not guilty,’ said Tara.

  ‘Mea culpa,’ admitted Stuart. He had learned early on that it wasn’t worth trying to fool Maggie. She always found you out in the end.

  ‘I saw the job advertised in the Herald, and I thought you were ideally qualified for it. Overqualified, if anything.’

  ‘There’s a rumour that the Head of Admissions will be retiring at the end of the academic year,’ said Tara. ‘So they’ll be looking for a replacement in the near future. Whoever gets this job …’

  ‘Now listen to me, you two,’ said Maggie, starting to clear away the plates. ‘I’m on a sabbatical, and come August I intend to return to Washington and continue my job as Dean of Admissions at Georgetown. Sydney University will just have to find someone else.’ She sat down to open her second letter.

  Neither Tara nor Stuart made any further comment as she extracted a cheque for $277,000, signed by the Treasury Secretary. ‘Benefit in full’, the attached letter explained, for the loss of her husband while serving as an officer with the CIA. How could they begin to understand what the words ‘benefit in full’ meant?

  She quickly opened the third letter. She had saved it till last, recognising the ancient typeface and knowing exactly who had sent it.

  Tara nudged Stuart. ‘The annual love letter from Dr O’Casey, if I’m not mistaken,’ she said in a stage whisper. ‘I must admit, I’m impressed that he managed to track you down.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Maggie with a smile. ‘At least with him I don’t have to pretend.’ She tore open the envelope.

  ‘See you both outside and ready to leave in one hour,’ Stuart said, checking his watch. Maggie glanced over the top of her reading glasses and smiled. ‘I’ve booked a table at the beach cafe for one o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, you’re so masterful,’ said Tara with an adoring sigh. Stuart was just about to hit her on the head with his newspaper when Maggie said, ‘Good heavens.’ They both looked at her in amazement. It was the nearest they’d ever heard her get to blasphemy.

  ‘What is it, Mother?’ asked Tara. ‘Is he still proposing, or after all these years has he finally married someone else?’

  ‘Neither. He’s been offered a job as head of the Mathematics Department at the University of New South Wales, and he’s coming over to meet the Vice-Chancellor before he makes a final decision.’

  ‘Couldn’t be better,’ said Tara. ‘After all, he’s Irish, handsome, and has always adored you. And as you regularly remind us, Dad only just managed to beat him off in the first place. What more could you ask for?’

  There was a long silence before Maggie said, ‘I’m afraid that’s not altogether accurate.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Tara.

  ‘Well, the truth is that although he was handsome, and a magnificent dancer, he was also a bit of a bore.’

  ‘But you always told me …’

  ‘I know what I told