Dinner at Rose's (17 page)

She sighed happily. ‘I know.’

Outside the dogs began to bark, and Aunty Rose peered out the window. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Kim, with a face like thunder. Honestly, that child is as good as a soap opera.’

Kim flounced in, shutting the door with what came perilously close to a slam. She was taking her new role of rock chick very seriously; today she wore Doc Marten boots, shiny black tights and a very short tartan skirt. You could barely see its hem peeping out from underneath a worn black T-shirt that I thought I recognised as one of Matt’s – it was far too big for her and had
SEPULTURA
written across the front, the words wreathed in flames and topped by a leering skull.

‘Nice outfit,’ I said appreciatively. Teasing Kim was one of my very favourite hobbies.

‘Hi, Aunty Rose,’ she said, ignoring me and kissing her aunt’s lined cheek. I was looking forward to seeing Rose fatten up a bit. Losing so much weight had aged her horribly and fifty-three is
much
too young to look old and drawn.

‘Hello, my love,’ said Aunty Rose. ‘How was your day?’

‘Sucked,’ Kim said, perching on the edge of the kitchen table and swinging her booted feet.

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Hey, Jo, chuck me an apple?’ I did, and she bit into it with relish. ‘Those dicks at school are so far up their own bums you wouldn’t believe it.’

‘Kim Amanda King!’ said Aunty Rose sharply. ‘That sort of language just implies you’re too stupid to speak proper English. If you
were
stupid I wouldn’t mind, but you’re not.’

‘Sorry,’ Kim muttered.

‘Which dicks at school?’ I asked. ‘That is, which people have provoked your displeasure?’

‘Dean and deputy principal. And they
are
di– . . . idiots.’

‘What did you do?’ Aunty Rose asked with some misgiving.

‘There was a cigarette in my bag.’

‘Oh, Kim, don’t start smoking,’ Aunty Rose said. ‘If only because of the expense, let alone that insignificant little statistic of smoking killing one person in two.’

‘I won’t, I won’t,’ said Kim. ‘But honestly, what a fuss over nothing. Mum’s having hysterics, and I’ve got to go and be hassled by the disciplinary committee.’

‘For a cigarette?’ I asked, deeply sceptical.

‘Well, actually it was a joint. But still . . .’

‘
What?
’ said Aunty Rose, fingers gripping her whisk so tightly that her knuckles went white. She drew herself up to her full six foot two and glared at her niece. ‘You took marijuana to school? Have you lost your
mind
?’

‘Aunty Rose, it was just one tiny little joint –’ Kim started feebly.

‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ said Aunty Rose. ‘I might say something I’d regret.’ She removed a dog roll from the fridge and stalked outside into the dusk, slamming the door behind her.

There was a dismayed silence, and then Kim said, with a slightly shaky attempt at bravado, ‘Well, that wound the old girl up.’

‘Shut up,’ I said flatly, putting away the last of the groceries and shutting the pantry door.

‘It’s not like you can talk!’ she cried. ‘I don’t believe
you’ve
never smoked a joint.’

Actually, in my sheltered life I’d only ever shared one with Chrissie, one night when Graeme was working late, and it had sent us both to sleep. Not really a prime example of living life on the edge. ‘In my stupidest teenage moments I’d never have taken drugs to school,’ I snapped. ‘You might be expelled, you moron – then what’ll you do?’

‘School’s a waste of time anyway. I might chuck it in.’

‘Brilliant. You can go and pump petrol for the minimum wage. And if you’re
really
lucky you can find some dropkick – that one you’re going out with would do – to get you pregnant. You might as well fuck up your life completely while you’re at it. But don’t worry, if you smoke enough dope you won’t really care.’

Kim burst into tears, threw her half-eaten apple at me and ran out of the house.

I found, as I bent to pick it up, that my hands were shaking.
Well done, Jo
, I thought.
You couldn’t have handled
that worse if you’d tried – now you’ve lost any influence
you might have had over the poor kid
. I waited until I heard her roar down the drive in her mother’s car before going outside.

‘What did you say to her?’ Aunty Rose asked, straightening up from where she was attending to the itchy spot between Percy’s ears. He grunted indignantly, sighed and waddled off.

‘I stuffed it up completely,’ I admitted. ‘I told her she was an idiot and asked why didn’t she just drop out of school and get herself pregnant while she was at it.’

‘
Ex
cellent.’

‘Huh?’ I asked blankly.

‘That child thinks you’re the most marvellous thing since sliced bread.’

‘Not anymore, she doesn’t.’

‘Let me finish,’ said Aunty Rose. ‘She thought you’d be amused and instead you came down on her like a tonne of bricks. It might actually shock some sense into her.’

‘Or she might rush off and mainline some heroin,’ I said.

‘Of course she won’t.’ Rose sighed. ‘Well, I hope not. I do hope we can get her through the next few years. Matthew had his moments, but at least he had a useful father.’ She added as she turned back towards the house, ‘And then, of course, you don’t have to worry about boys coming home pregnant.’

Chapter 16

K
IM’S DISCIPLINARY HEARING
was held on Monday afternoon, after school. According to Matt she had been threatened with suspension and reduced to a small and pathetic heap before receiving her sentence of recataloguing every reference book in the Waimanu High School library. She would tackle this task every afternoon from three-thirty until the cleaners finished and locked up at five.

‘I’ll bring her home,’ I offered. Matt had wandered into the physio clinic during Amber’s lunch break and was leaning against the front counter digging thistles out of the pads of his fingers with his pocket knife. Getting out prickles is such a satisfying pursuit – I was itching to have a go but since the unhappy day, about fifteen years earlier, when I lanced his infected toenail and hit a fairly major artery, I had never been allowed anywhere near him with a sharp instrument. ‘Although she’d probably rather walk than go anywhere with me just at the moment.’

He grinned. ‘Poor little sausage,’ he said. ‘You yelled at her, I yelled at her, Rose yelled at her, Mum sobbed broken-heartedly for about an hour last night about the shame she’s brought upon the name of King . . .’

‘
Poor
Kim,’ I said with feeling.

‘She’s not allowed to go to guitar practice anymore and Mum’s banned her from spending time with Jonno the dropkick.’

I rubbed my nose thoughtfully. ‘You don’t think that’ll just encourage her to rush off and sleep with him?’

‘Probably,’ he said morosely. ‘Rotten little bastard. I bet he gave the stuff to her in the first place.’ He sighed. ‘It was bloody thoughtless of Dad to go and die just as she hit her teens.’

‘You’re doing a good job,’ I said. ‘She’s lucky to have you.’ I felt my face getting warm and added hastily, ‘When does she start her detention?’

‘Today,’ said Matt. ‘I’ve already told her she’d better come round here afterwards and grovel until you give her a lift home.’

‘I hope she turns up.’

‘She will,’ he said. He straightened up and put his pocket knife back in his pocket, evidently satisfied with his thistle progress. ‘Hey, Jo – thanks.’

‘I’m going that way anyway,’ I pointed out.

‘Not just for that. For – well, everything.’

I barely stifled a sigh. Being viewed by Matt as Good Old Jo, although undoubtedly better than Jo the Interfering Pain in the Neck, was profoundly depressing.

KIM APPEARED AT
ten past five, cloaked in gloom. Amber had gone for the day – she’d even shut down her computer, which was little short of miraculous – and I was sorting through a box of ancient tag ends of Elastoplast rolls. Why Cheryl felt that keeping the last two inches rather than wrapping it around the client’s ankle was a useful saving was beyond me.

‘Matt said you might take me home,’ Kim muttered, looking at the ground.

‘Of course I will.’ I put the box back in its cupboard and shut the door. ‘Hey, Kim?’

‘Don’t!’ she said hysterically. ‘Just don’t lecture me anymore – I can’t stand it.’

She looked so small and so miserable that I hugged her before it occurred to me that I probably wasn’t high on her list of potential comforters at the moment. However, she buried her head in my shoulder and burst into tears. I patted her soothingly for a while, and when at last she stopped sobbing and began to hiccup I passed her the box of tissues I had strategically placed on the front counter to encourage Amber to stop wiping her nose on the backs of her hands. (It hadn’t worked; Amber used the tissues solely to remove polish from her fingernails. Clients of Waimanu Physiotherapy waited for their appointments in a haze of acetone fumes.)

Kim took the tissues and blew her nose. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Me too. I had no right to yell at you – sometimes I forget you’re not actually my sister.’

‘I wish I was,’ said Kim.

‘That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I told her. I fished in my bag. ‘Here, I got you something.’

She unwrapped the little package, looked at the pair of silver hoop earrings I had purchased that afternoon during the ten-minute lunch break Amber had allowed me and began to cry once more. ‘They’re b-beautiful,’ she sobbed. ‘And they’re real silver – oh,
Josie
.’

‘Steady on there, Kimlet. Come on, let’s go home.’

HAZEL, ACTING LIKE
an early Christian martyr, took Aunty Rose to Waikato Hospital for her mastectomy. The rest of us were strictly forbidden to visit.

‘What an incredible waste of your time,’ Aunty Rose said. ‘I’ll only be there a day or two. It will be a pleasant change to have a little time to myself, rather than having to constantly try to instil a little decorum in you three hoodlums.’

Matt grinned at her. ‘If I were you I’d give up on Jo and me,’ he said. ‘We’re far too old to discipline properly. Concentrate on the toad.’

She stayed in hospital three nights, and Hazel brought her home again on the Saturday – it transpired that Hazel’s new bedroom curtains were finished by then and waiting in Hamilton for collection. I was finding it very hard to look at Hazel’s motives with anything approaching charity these days.

They arrived at around six, having waited hours to be discharged, and Aunty Rose made her way shakily across the gravel and up the kitchen path. She was surrounded by an anxious retinue of four dogs and one pig, all of them needing reassurance that she wouldn’t leave them again.

‘I see you’ve mistreated the animals in my absence, Josephine,’ she said.

I crouched down to help her off with her shoes. ‘Spud slept in the kitchen in front of the stove last night, and I scratched Percy’s stomach for about an hour. Don’t believe a word they say.’

Aunty Rose touched my head lightly. ‘Of course your flaws are too numerous to count, child, but you do mean well.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Cup of tea?’