Chapter 8

As a major shock to all of us, especially herself, Gae began chucking her guts up one morning. You'd think a registered nurse of her length of standing would have recognised the symptoms! After all, at one point she was in charge of the neonatal clinic at Kogarah.

Eventually she went to our local GP expecting something to do with an ulcer or something. She lived with me, so of course she was under stress all the time.

The doctor listened to her symptoms then looked her in the eye, "Did you know, before you were married and still at the hospital, I almost asked you to join my surgery? I was going to ask a medical professional who doesn't recognise early pregnancy signs to work for me! Tsk, tsk, tsk."

He took the blood sample to make sure, and gave her a once-over since he hadn't seen her in the six months since Marilyn last had tonsillitis.

"Your BP (blood pressure) is up a bit, as I would expect with someone of your age just being told they're pregnant. I'll see you in a couple of weeks; make an appointment out front with Francine."

When she told me, her nerves were as tight as a drum, almost humming. I replied, "I thought it might be something like that. I thought if we practiced enough, we eventually had to get it right. Congratulations dear, and it's about time. Does that mean we can stop doing all that icky stuff all the time which makes you scream, and that wrecks bulldog clips?"

Gae punched me in the arm which is her way of telling me she loves me. "No fuckin' fear! I need double the dosage of testosterone inserted to make sure we get a boy. There are enough women around this house, distracting you."

"Oh, woe is me, alack and alas, the life of a working man is never done. Stop laughing wench, this is serious, I'm feeling crook because I'm going to be a father; this morning sickness is the pits. It's okay for you, you've done this all before and it's like riding a bike. I don't care if it's three thirty in the afternoon, it's my tummy that's sick, not my watch."

Gae went from a ball of nerves, worrying herself sick, to laughing hysterically.

"Mumma, thank you, you are the very definition of sunshine which lights up my life. You made me so proud when you said 'I will' at that ceremony. Mind you, you never actually said you'd marry me when I asked you to."

"Jesus, old man, will you drop that? It was ten years ago for Christ's sake! Did you pull something out of the freezer for tea?"

The girls that were home went into hysterics and found it was necessary to ring everyone in the neighbourhood ... especially, first, Veronica. She damaged the phone cord with her scream. Kimbo and Marilyn were on the train coming home. I thought I'd take up drinking again when they got home; Jessica, Amy and Tammy were bad enough.

Jessica actually had almost finished her nursing certificate. She had to work hard for two years to get the entry education requirements out of the way, because learning was not a natural ability for her, nor for Amy. She also had that marriage thing that she was fixated on out of the way. Her comment that 'No man is worth this shit. I'd even stop fucking women if I had to go through all this crap for them, ' told me where her focus currently lay.

Amy was the secretary to Gary's partner. He was almost never there according to her, and she spent much of her time helping the remainder of the office staff on general duties like a temp. Gary said that though she was not the brightest globe on the ceiling, he wasn't in line for another wife anyway. His first two were already more trouble than they were worth. Doris and he may not be as lovey-dovey as they once were, but their sex life was still up there. The proof was them having had six kids at last count. I joked with him about that old Skyhooks song You Only Love Me Because I'm Good in Bed was probably nearer the truth. He surprised me the other day by telling me that he divorced his first wife because she did a runner with the family's church pastor after only two months of their marriage. The SDA church would never live down the ignominy. Personally, I'd go hunting up dingos to keep the church's population down (Editor's note: NO ONE is exempt from the morbid humour of "the press": http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Azaria_Chamberlain. Note especially the religion Of the Chamberlain family and the father, David's, occupation).

Gary asked us - as a favour to him, and his extended family - to take in as a ward, a young boy whose mother had deserted him. The boy's mother was the niece of his business partner, whose family got up on their high horse when she was found to have had a long-time lover as well as her husband, and the child was supposedly the lover's offspring. Personally, I believe it's a good man who knows his own father, and genetic testing was unknown then. The kid is four and a half, and had been traumatised firstly by his mother running off, and then by all the people who used to treat him affectionately who would now have nothing to do with him (nice folks, eh?).

We had a 'spot the immature ones' competition; and the boy wasn't the winner. We - that is, all the broody women that live with me, and myself - gave it some thought (nigh on to ten seconds, in all) and took him in. We treated Andrew as another one of the family and he treated us all with deep suspicion. All the people he had held with affection had deserted him. We, complete strangers, were treating him as if he has always been with us.

'The man is really ugly and has a wooden peg leg and no fingers on one hand, ' the boy thought. 'All the ladies are nice, but one of them is not pretty at all, really yucky. Another old one has a big fat belly. The man treats me nice, but I'm a bit afraid of him. He's a pirate.'

One day about a month after moving him in, I set him down and talked to him about the people Andrew was living with and his situation.

"Andrew, what do you like being called, Andrew or Andy?" I asked. "Andy it is, then. You know all about why you're living here don't you?" Andrew shook his head, "In case nobody ever told you, your mummy knew two men, who she loved. One was your daddy who she married but she also had a boyfriend, and she loved them both I believe. One day, someone told your daddy about her boyfriend. She left your daddy for some reason, to go with her boyfriend. She decided that you would be better off living with your daddy.

"The trouble is, Andy, some adults aren't very nice. It's the same as some kids aren't very nice. It turns out that you weren't your daddy's baby but the boyfriend's. Daddy's family kicked up a stink, and a friend of your daddy's family told them he knew some people who would look after you while everyone sorted out what they were going to do, especially if your mummy didn't come home again.

"Now, that may mean your mummy might turn up here next week, or they may not even tell her where you are living. It could be that you may live here the rest of your life, and we'd love to have you as you are a good bloke.

"A lot of the big girls who are living here are in that exact same position. Big Kim had a mummy who was my cousin. That mummy married a really, really good friend of mine. One day, when Kim was still in her mummy's tummy, her daddy got sick and died. Kimbo came to live with me when she was born. Her mummy ran away because her little girl reminded her of Kim's daddy and made her very sad. Kim is now my little girl, and we love each other very much. You know Kimbo; she's the real big girl with the orange hair.

"Gae is my wife. When she was just thirteen, she met a man who was at first nice to her then treated her very mean and gave her a baby. The man ran away but the police caught him and put him in gaol for a long, long time. Her little girl is Marilyn and you could definitely say that her daddy ran away from her. I became Marilyn's daddy when I married Gae. After that, I adopted Marilyn so she has become my daughter in every way. I love her very much, too. Gae is all fat now because she's going to have my baby and we are very, very happy.

"Did you know I'm a school teacher? Well, I am. You didn't really think I was a pirate, did you? Silly duffer! I'm going to take you up to the school where I used to teach, and get you enrolled to start there, to learn to read and write and add up numbers. All pretty hard stuff. I don't teach there anymore because I teach at the big kid's school, but I've still got lots of friends there.

"When I moved to the big school, some years ago, I met a girl there who was being treated very mean by her mummy and daddy. Her name is Tammy. It used be Tammy Scholes, but now it's Tammy Palmer. That's because I made her my daughter as well. They treated her so mean that she didn't want to do any schoolwork and acted pretty dumb.

"She asked me, because I was one of her teachers if I could make her smart. I worked hard with her, and she realised it was because she had a bad mummy and daddy. She moved in here with Gae and me, and we became her mummy and daddy. I think Tammy is the cleverest person in the house now, because she worked really hard.

"Veronica is Tammy's sister and she was treated very badly as well by the bad mummy and daddy. She ran away from home. One day, lots later, Ronnie came back trying to find her littlest sister Tammy to take her away from the bad mummy and daddy. She found Tammy living with Gae and me instead. Ronnie liked it so much here that she stayed. Ronnie is a pretty smart cookie as well. Now her name is Veronica Palmer because I adopted her, too.

"The other two girls are Tammy and Veronica's sisters. The bad mummy and daddy wouldn't let them go to school, and the way they treated them they got a little sick in the head. They are both working hard on school work now, and we help them. They live here, and I think they like it here. Their names are Jessica and Amy.

"Have you got something you'd like to ask me, Andy?"

"How did you get hurt?"

"Arrhh, I didn't tell you about Old Pirate Jack, did I? Well my name is John Palmer, and you can call me John or Mr Palmer or Pop as all my girls call me, except for Gae. Why do you think Gae doesn't call me Pop?"

"Because you're married to her, silly."

"I think that could be a good reason too. Gae calls me either 'Darling' or 'you idiot'; she's even been known to say 'you idiot Darling', which confuses me. I always call Gae 'Darling', because she's nobody's fool, except maybe for loving Old Pirate Jack. When I used to teach at the little school, all the kids called me Pirate Jack, because I look like a pirate don't I? If you want to, you can call me that. Marilyn used to call me that, when I taught her in the same school as you will be going to. My girl Kimbo went to that school, too.

"'How did I get hurt'? Well, a long time ago, there was a war and I was hurt in that war. Lots of people were fighting each other. I was a soldier and our government told me I had to go and fight. Kim's daddy was also hurt in that war, and it eventually killed him. He was a very good friend of mine and he asked me to be Kim's daddy. You should always try to do what your friends ask you to do. You're here because a friend of mine asked me to look after you. I will, until you don't want me to look after you any more. Is that fair?"

Andy's head was nodding.

"Now I'll tell you some of the rules around here. You are always nice to the people you live with, and you never lie! Never ever! No chuckin' wobblies, 'cause that's my job. Oh, and you never tell people outside what happens inside our house. What happens inside is private family business. I will tell you a rule that I live by, and if you do it too then everybody will always like you. You always treat other people just like you would like them to treat you. That's about all of the rules."

'Pirate Jack didn't talk about Heaven or Hell or God or Jesus or sinning, ' thought Andy, 'like my family who don't want me used to do. I like Pirate Jack's rules best of all.'

Gae was leaning against the door jamb, tears streaming down her face, "Well, Old Pirate Jack, this little boy has to have his bath and go to bed. Sorry, I'm having trouble seeing with these stupid tears. Come on, kiddo, bath time. It's Kim's turn, tonight. We had to make a roster, because everyone wants to help you bath."

They were still talking as they walked down the hall. I think he'll come around pretty quickly. All anyone wants to be is loved, and there's a lot of love around here.

When both Kim and Marilyn did their HSC, they both received results in the top ten percentile. I was so proud of my girls that I almost choked with pride. They were both accepted at the same university, doing the same Education and Arts degrees. They say their aim is to teach both English and History, while they are writing musical lyrics which will go hand in hand with poetry.

Marilyn said it was funny when they went to enrol, because the paperwork had insinuated that the sisters, actually born a month apart, were twins. When the graduate student who was enrolling them looked up at the twins and saw a beautiful one point five metre brown-haired pocket rocket, who had never had a pimple much less a freckle; next to an ugly, masculine-looking, one point eight five metre giantess with freckles and brilliant fire-engine red, fuzzy-wuzzy style hair, he thought someone was playing a practical joke on him.

When he went over the papers again, he learnt that they were sisters born a month apart, which made even less sense. Kim hadn't filled in her mother's name, then they filled in the same name as Marilyn's mother – stress. Marilyn had put down my name as father yet the birth certificate said, 'father undesignated' - more stress. They could have been there for hours until a supervisor came along to untangle the mess.

They were passed to the supervisor who stopped worrying about the irrelevancies, and then it all went like clockwork. They didn't know why, but a man who the supervisor said was the Dean of the college pointed to them. He said that they were John Palmer's girls, and he expected their enrolment to be completed within twenty minutes, even if the supervisor himself had to fill out the paperwork!

Half way through their first year, a lecturer asked the class to bring in original poetry. Kim had, by now, quite a bit of experience. She ripped a song off in an evening. Marilyn, trying a shortcut, brought in Temporary Company. We had copyrighted it with all the others she had written at the time under her original name of Marilyn Allen. He refused to accept it, it being copywrited under another name. Kim, three hundred mil taller (a foot to you foreigners) than him, and having a considerably larger build, confronted him. She looked down on him and read him the riot act, using words of one syllable. Marilyn thought it was funny that her big mate was still protecting her from the bullies.

Marilyn then brought out a carton containing hundreds of songs, written under both names, asking him to pick one. Kim's grade on her 'poem' was A+, while six of Marilyn's were published in the University newspaper. After hearing a tape recording, Kim and I were invited to perform at the annual University concert. They gave us the words and music which we placed back into the box and sang a major selection of what Marilyn and Kim had written. We received five official recording contract requests that night, as the audience was quite a distance from the stage, and the lighting was not the best.

I made one proviso: that a photo of the three of us would take up the full album cover. This, to me, would show how serious they were. Five gung-ho salesmen-cum-agent's representatives, turned up with cheque book and camera in hand - and left carrying both. Eventually the largest of the companies sent their top sales executive around to come to some kind of mutual agreement. He left as well. It seemed that what an artist looks like is more important than the talent of the performer. I can only see it getting worse.

Can you imagine someone like Dame Joan Sutherland not being allowed to record because she had a head resembling the front end of a bus - including her chin as the genuine snow plough accessory? We made some privately paid-for recordings, and gave them to the ABC to play during the week. Wouldn't you know it? The government media organisation has their own recording company; who'd'a thunk it? They took the photo with Marilyn lying on her side across our laps, wearing her cheekiest grin, and her head resting on her bent arm on Kim's knee.

The ugliest record cover of all time outsold the biggest US imports that year, but didn't make the top forty because it wasn't on a forty-five record. It outsold every single as well. We were played, ad nauseum, on every radio station. The TV stations refused to have us on their live shows, even the ABC's own Molly Meldrum and Countdown. We were realistic. It was hysterical.

I did one thing that could become a long term money-making venture. A newspaper, which is one of the international recording conglomerate's properties belonging to the same mob who owned that big music publisher, requested an interview; and me being the old cynic that I am agreed. They also sent a photographer, who ran around like a chicken with its head cut off taking snaps, which if he was very lucky would only damage the lens.

The questions were aggressive and highly suggestive. I even asked him if my replies were going to be faithfully used in context. Yes, definitely. And this wasn't for a record company that tore people down? No, of course not. The paper printed the story, page three, next to the page three girl, and not one single reply to a question was used in context; everything was slanted in a way to make me appear a greedy fool. I can make a big enough fool out of myself, thank you very much, without any help from them.

I sued them for a million dollars. A solicitor representing the newspaper proprietor rang me and told me that the article was a faithful representation of the interview, and to remove my suit before they sued me for public nuisance. I played a portion of the recording I had made of the interview, and he hung up on me. I didn't tell him that I had also recorded the interview on that new Beta video format on the school's camera.

The newspaper began a PR campaign across the front pages of their assorted newssheets. Someone was so incensed at my 'greed, ' that they threw a brick through our lounge room window.

When I finally had my day in court - after six months of delaying actions - the complete trial, hearing, and whatever, took all of two hours. Most of that time was taken to try to have the hearing thrown out before commencement. My only testimony was playing the video, in conjunction with the tape as proof it hadn't been tampered with. As to be expected, they tried that too. They had the newspaper's version spoken by a professional voice man.

The decision was immediate. I was awarded the requested million dollars for the mis-reporting, another million for the propaganda war, which the judge said I had earned through the aggravation alone, and then he added the legal and Court costs to the publisher's bill. And they had to print an apology. It was printed eight months later, on page thirty-five, under the births, deaths and marriages. They had really pissed that judge off. I could retire, but I put the money away in investments and went back to school. I'm a teacher; that's what I do. That and invent a little magic called music.

From then on we made our own records of our own music. All the profits (and the investments) went to our heirs in Gae's and my will. We live on our dual wages, we don't need anything more. And for some reason no newspaper, including their opposition, printed the results of the court case. I think they all probably considered it a bad precedent.

Kim and Marilyn wrote enough songs to keep Kimbo and my throats sore for a lifetime during their university time then after they graduated. They never took up teaching as a profession. The best we recorded ourselves, but a number of secondary songs were written for musicians that Marilyn actually liked. You know, insignificant ones like U2, who I must admit I had never heard of at the time, and an Elton John who I had once seen on a poster, for a Sydney concert.

Andrew's mother turned up on our doorstep one day wanting her son, then twelve. I rang Gary who rang the police and she was arrested whilst on our doorstep for wilful neglect of a minor, desertion, child endangerment, and sixteen other charges. To really rub the salt into the wound, Andy couldn't remember her. Fourteen years later, Doctor Andrew Palmer was treating the entire family and the neighbourhood after we bought our old, long-term local GP's practice on his death. Yes, he still calls me 'Pop.'