The woman peered crossly at Dan and his mother and then her face softened. ‘Hello, Aunt Stephanie,’ she said warmly. The soft purr of her voice, the self-conscious way she ushered them in, the quick kisses she gave his mother reminded Dan of a shy pet. ‘Hello,’ she added, turning to him and kissing him on both cheeks. ‘You must be Daniel. I’m your cousin Joanna.’
The first few minutes were a rush as he followed his mother and cousin through the house, all plush carpets and richly patterned rugs, showy furnishings and endless photos on the walls. An enormous television dominated the lounge room. Two young boys were sitting on a white leather sofa, fighting over a gaming console. They stopped struggling as the adults entered, and looked up sheepishly; the youngest tried to hide the console behind his back. On the white leather armchair across from them sat a man in a black t-shirt, AC/DC printed on it in synthetic white Gothic lettering. He was wearing grey trackpants, his feet were bare. He didn’t get up to greet them, didn’t meet their eyes.
‘This is my brother, your cousin Dennis,’ said Joanna, and then pointed to the boys. ‘My eldest, Michael, and my baby, Paul.’
Dan couldn’t take in the names, forgot them as soon as he heard them. The two young boys couldn’t hide their openmouthed astonishment at being introduced to him. The intensity of their examination of him disturbed him; it felt as if he were an animal on display, as if he and his mum were strange and alien beasts. But his mother didn’t seem to notice or care as she swooped down on the boys, wrapped them in a tight embrace and kissed them. They turned anxious eyes to their mother, and Dan caught Joanna’s covert nod of permission. They returned their great-aunt’s embrace. Dan’s mother then turned to hug the large-framed man, who still hadn’t risen from the sofa or looked their way. This disrespect made Dan want to lift him up by his shirtfront, this big-muscled wog jerk, all balloon biceps and puffed-up jock chest. But his mother didn’t mind at all — she was affectionate with Dennis, caressing his face and messing his short spiky hair. The man relented a little, looking her way but not smiling, not really returning the hug.
‘Do you remember me?’ asked Dan’s mother. ‘Do you remember your thea Steph?’ Dan couldn’t fathom why she was talking to the man as she would to a child.
They left the boys in the living room with Dennis, and went with Joanna into a small kitchen. The walls there were also plastered with photographs, but there were none of his mother, none of her as an adult or as a child, and none of Dan’s family. Joanna asked if they would like coffee, and Dan’s eyes didn’t waver from his mum. He could sense how nervous she was, how unsettled she seemed being back in Adelaide. He wouldn’t answer until she did. He had never felt such a strong urge to protect her. He stayed close to her, got her a chair to sit on, but stayed standing behind her, as though guarding her.
A car door slammed outside and his mother froze. Then there was the sound of a key in a lock and Joanna looked nervously to the hallway.
‘Jo, the boys should be in bed.’ The voice was loud and throaty, so deep that for a moment Dan thought it was a man’s voice, but then a woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was dressed simply in an oversized Crows footy jumper and navy pants. Her hair was damp, her skin flushed, as though she had just showered.
‘Hello, Bettina, how are you?’
The woman ignored his mother. She stepped into the doorway of the living room and called out to the two young boys. They rushed to their grandmother and hugged her, shyly waved goodnight to Dan and his mother, and went to get ready for bed.
Her arms still crossed, Bettina came back into the kitchen and pointed to the digital clock on the wall. The bright scarlet letters read 10.43. ‘What kind of time is this to arrive?’
Dan’s mother’s voice was surprisingly calm. ‘I phoned Joanna and explained that we took off after lunch.’ She turned to smile at her niece. ‘I’m sorry, Jo, we didn’t mean to put you out.’
Jo shook her head, busy tamping down ground coffee into the base of an espresso maker. ‘You’re not putting me out at all. It’s lovely to see you.’ Joanna turned to her mother. ‘Mum, don’t make a scene, alright?’
Bettina said something in Greek and Dan could see that it had winded his mother, that her face had reddened and her hands were shaking. Dan wanted to punch the bitch, to feel his fist go through her teeth, through bone and meat. He wasn’t going to count down to ten, he didn’t want to let go of his rage.
‘Of course,’ Bettina continued in English, ‘what else do we expect from Stephanie? It’s always been about her. No one else matters to Stephanie.’
‘Don’t you fucking dare speak about my mother like that.’
Joanna’s jaw dropped open, her eyes widened. Dan’s mother recoiled as though his words had stung her. But not Bettina. Her hands now were on her large hips and she was nodding.
His mother said wearily, ‘Danny, please, be polite, this is your aunt Bettina.’
The woman walked up to him, looked straight at him. He didn’t want to be polite but he couldn’t help respecting the fact that she didn’t try to kiss him, pretend affection or familial feeling. This was his mother’s oldest sister, only by a year or so, he remembered from his mother’s stories, but he was pleased to see that she looked so much older than his mother. She was overweight, her body shapeless and unattractive, her face hard and unforgiving.
‘Do you remember me?’
He shook his head. He recalled little from his first visit to Adelaide, except for a vivid memory of the wrathful old man who’d made his mother cry and who’d told him, ‘You are no grandchild of mine.’ He knew there had been other people there that day, but they were shades, ghosts in his memory.
‘You look a bit like your cousin Dennis. You can tell you two are related.’
It was the first softening in her, the first extension of warmth. But Dan would not budge, would not smile. He remained standing guard for his mother.
Bettina turned to her daughter. ‘Are you just serving coffee? How about some food?’
‘Mum,’ grizzled Joanna, rolling her eyes, ‘I’ve got some food warming up in the oven, I’m on to it.’
Bettina finally took a seat and Dan sat down as well, making sure he stayed next to his mother.
The coffee came, and then the food. They’d only shared a packet of chips since Ararat, and he was hungry. Joanna’s lemon-flavoured potatoes and the grilled lamb straps marinated in rosemary and garlic were delicious. There was little conversation as Bettina and Joanna watched them eat, and Dan finished within minutes, wiping his plate clean with some pita bread.
This occasioned another smile from his aunt. ‘You even eat like your cousin Dennis.’
Once Dan’s mother had finished eating, Joanna asked after Dan’s father, after Regan and Theo. It shocked him how quickly the talk switched to another language; he marvelled at how easily Greek flowed from his mother’s lips. He excused himself and went into the lounge room.
His cousin Dennis was still slouched in the leather armchair, watching the television, the volume low. Dennis didn’t take his eyes off the television, but he shifted his weight and straightened himself up.