At Home With The Templetons by Monica McInerney

with a halo of white-blonde hair that made Nina think of a dandelion. ‘And my one and only son, Spencer.’ A cross-looking little boy with a head of blond curls, perhaps seven or eight years old, stepped forward, scowled, then stepped back. ‘And, of course, my sister-in-law, Hope.’ An elegant brunette woman in her early thirties standing at the back of the group gave a small nod. She didn’t smile or step forward.
    The gathering crowd looked at the Templetons and the Templetons all looked back. There was silence for a moment as each took in the other. All five females were dressed in full colonial costume. Henry may have got away with it, his look formal but somehow in keeping with the house. There was no mistaking the women’s clothing for daily dress. Eleanor was wearing a long, pale-blue gown and matching bonnet. Hope had a similar dress in bright-red satin. The three girls looked very pretty in their long dresses, gloves and satin pumps, Nina thought. Even the little boy was dressed in oldfashioned clothing, breeches, braces and a hat, which from his tugging seemed to be the cause of his scowls.
    ‘Come now, don’t be shy.’ Henry Templeton smiled at them
    all again, before throwing out his arms once more. ‘Welcome, all of you, to Templeton Hall!’
    ‘What did he call it?’ the man beside Nina said, too loudly. ‘Templeton Hall,’ Henry Templeton repeated, beaming at them all once more. ‘Officially renamed today in honour of ourselves, but also, most fortuitously, in honour of William Templeton, one of the finest surveyors in Australian history and architect of many local settlements. His name already graces several of your streets, of course, but this is our additional personal tribute. I’ll officially unveil the plaque this afternoon, but if you can’t stay until then, please do take a peek in the meantime. In fact, why don’t I read it out?’
    He strode towards a velvet curtain covering a square of brass on the wall beside the front door and pulled it back with a flourish. Templeton Hall, officially opened May 1860, it read.
    ‘Typo there, mate,’ someone called out. ‘It’s 1991, not 1860.’ ‘Oh no, it’s not,’ Henry Templeton said with a warm smile. ‘The moment you drove past our gates you went back in time, didn’t you realise? You think we would wear these clothes otherwise? Templeton Hall officially opens today as a perfect time capsule of life in the 1860s. I am honoured and touched that so many of you are here to mark this special day with us. So please, come inside and make yourself at home with the Templetons with our compliments today, and for a nominal charge on all other weekends. And be sure to tell your family, your friends - even your enemies - about us,’ He laughed cheerily, then turned and went inside, followed by the rest of his family. There was initial hesitation, then almost a stampede to the front door. Within minutes the house was filled with chatter, as people practically ran from room to room, exclaiming at the renovations, the furniture, the work that had been done, how authentic it looked, how much it must have cost, then, in more whispered tones, the strangeness of it all.
    Henry Templeton was constantly on the move, smiling, pointing out this painting or that table, giving potted histories of the goldrush days, answering questions, no matter how rude or invasive, with charm, grace and humour. The five costumed Templeton females seemed to drift rather than walk - that ghostly feeling again, Nina thought - into different rooms, smiling at guests, each of them talking in confident, beautiful English accents.
    ‘They’ll go bust in a month,’ she heard people saying more than once.
    ‘This will all get stolen within a month.’ ‘He’s nuts.’
    ‘The whole family is nuts.’
    Nina and Tom stayed for half an hour. They walked through each of the rooms, Nina marvelling as much as the others milling around them, but keeping her thoughts to herself.