Chapter 5

Tuesday at SciTech I had a primary school group in the morning. They were so much fun that I kept on imagining Patrick in a few – well, eight or nine – years. I hoped he wouldn't think that arthropods were "yucky" or even get into a fight over whether the mice in the cages were "cute" or "disgusting." But I had a good time. I was telling the staff about it at lunch when Carole asked "And when is yours due?"

I laughed. "About four to six weeks. Maybe less. You're right. I see our little boy coming here eventually."

"We won't have anything to teach him. He'll know all about the animals."

"He won't know the geology or the astronomy and hardly any botany. Anyway, we'll have his fourth birthday party here – unless too many of his friends are younger."

"I was at the zoo in San Diego for a conference a few years ago," said one of the other teachers. "They have facilities for children's parties. Our zoo doesn't."

"Have you talked about schools yet?" asked Carole.

"Are you kidding? He's not born yet!"

"The pre-schools have waiting lists – we waited too long and couldn't get into the Montessori."

"I'll mention it to Weena – my wife – and see what she thinks."

"You're married to Weena Scott?"

"That's what she was."

"I hated her when we were in school! I was a year behind her and she could do everything best! I went for years thinking I'd never catch up!"

"What's your name? I'll ask her."

"First tell me what she did."

"What she did?"

"After Perth College."

"Oh. She went to nursing school in Adelaide, came back and worked at Royal Perth, moved back to Laverton and did some nursing among the local bands, bought and ran a hotel, married me, and moved back to Perth. She's been a sister at Royal Perth for about 15 months. Succinct enough?"

"Wow! I'm Angela. I went to ECU and did the double BA/BSc. course. I'm into geology and oceanography and have been here for five years."

"Kids?"

"My fiancé was one of the crew of the Churchill lost in December '98."

"Oh. I am sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. I nearly went, too. Maybe I should have."

"Angela, call Weena. She's going to be at home feeling like a hippo nearly all the time. We live in Wembley Downs."

"Okay." She looked very sad.

When I got home, I told Weena that I'd met a student from Perth College who remembered her. "She said she hated you."

"Who?"

"Angela. I didn't get her last name. She said she was a year behind you."

"Angela Ross!"

"She said you did everything best."

"I was an aggressive snot."

"And now you're my beautiful mother-to-be."

"You know how to sweet-talk a girl. Tell me about Angela."

"She went to Edith Cowan and became a teacher. She seems sad."

"Sad?"

"Her fiancé was one of those lost in the Sydney to Hobart race. I don't know much more. I told her to phone you."

"A lot better than hearing from Gert again. Mmm. Could you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Drive to Priceline in Floreat?"

"What do you need?"

"Bra pads and panty pads. I'm leaking colostrum and my guess is that I'll start leaking below soon."

"Right. Will they know what I want?"

"I'm positive they will."

"Okay. Back in 15 minutes." As I drove, it sank in: this was really it. We were near having this new person revamping our lives. It wasn't just getting furniture and painting the room. Registering for school! Wait-listing! What would it all cost? I was in the store. Well, it wasn't tough. There was a big sign: Pregnancy/Maternity. And in the aisle were two pregnant women, chatting. They eyed me suspiciously. I scanned the shelves. Nursing pads. There seemed to be about fifty kinds. I had just started to read when a voice said: "C'n I helpcha?" It was a teenager in a smock. "Yes. My wife sent me out for pads, but I don't know what kind."

"Preggers or nursin'?"

"She due in a few weeks."

"Get a box a these. All cotton an' disposable. Get the pink if she don't wanna show."