Dinner at Rose's (40 page)

‘In the ceiling,’ said Mum. ‘Looking for leaks. Oh, Graeme rang.’ She cradled her teacup in both hands and looked at me over the top with a wicked smile.

‘What about?’ I asked.

‘Grammar, Josephine,’ Aunty Rose murmured.

‘I’ve no idea what he wanted,’ said Mum. ‘His exact words were: “Babe, we need to talk.” ’

‘
Babe?
’ I think the last time I was addressed as ‘babe’ was after about seventeen tequila shots at the Martini Lounge the night Graeme got his residency. Maybe Chrissie had traded him in.

‘Personally I prefer “love”,’ Mum said. ‘That’s what Matthew calls you when
he
rings. Anyway, I told Graeme you were spending the night with Matthew and he’d have to call back another time. Rose, what time is Art Cooper coming to get the chickens?’

‘Mid-morning. Do you think he might like a dog to go with them?’ She spoke lightly, but kept her face down to hide her expression.

‘Don’t split them up,’ I said impulsively. ‘I’ll look after them, I promise. And Percy.’

‘Sweet pea,’ said Aunty Rose gently, ‘you don’t want four dogs and a pig on your hands.’

‘I do.’ Well, I’d rather that than have Aunty Rose break her heart trying to rehome them.

‘Matthew
certainly
won’t.’

I smiled at her. ‘He’ll learn to love it.’

‘My goodness, Josephine, you grow more like your mother every day,’ said Aunty Rose.

‘That was a compliment,’ said Mum. ‘Just in case you didn’t notice.’ She reached for my hand and pressed it for a moment.

There was an ominous-sounding crash from above, and a shower of plaster fell.

‘Eric?’ Mum called. ‘What
are
you doing up there?’

‘Trying not to fall through the ceiling, dear,’ Dad answered, his voice just a little curt.

‘Jo, love, why don’t you take him to town?’ said Mum. ‘I’ve written out a list – it will be good for him to get out for a while.’

‘
WHAT DID ANDY
make you for dinner?’ I asked that afternoon.

Kim sat back on her heels and smiled. We were picking daffodils for Aunty Rose’s room, the old-fashioned ragged double kind that grow along the orchard fence. ‘Pasta,’ she said. ‘Lemon and chicken pasta, with salad and garlic bread.’

‘Wow.’ I hadn’t realised Andy was capable of such lofty culinary heights.

‘It was burnt,’ Kim said. ‘It all stuck on the bottom, and so he scraped it off with a wooden spoon and there were little flakes of charcoal all through it. And the garlic bread was still frozen in the middle when he unwrapped it.’

Ah. So he
wasn’t
capable of such lofty culinary heights. ‘How was the salad?’

‘Fancy lettuce leaves out of a bag, but they were a bit old and they’d gone sort of slimy.’ She laid down her daffodils and abandoned herself to laughter. ‘So we went to McDonald’s.’

‘It does sound like he tried really hard.’

‘Yeah,’ said Kim, smiling in a misty sort of way. ‘And I like chicken nuggets, anyway.’

Chapter 34

‘B
YE, MUM
.’ I hugged her hard, hiding my face for just a second in her warm shoulder. I was grown up, and presumably fairly capable by now, but it had been such a relief
not
to be the one who’s supposed to know what to do when things go wrong, just for a little while. ‘Thank you.’

Mum smiled at me, tucking the hair back behind my ears like she used to when I was six. ‘We are so proud of you,’ she said. ‘Aren’t we, Eric?’

‘Hmm?’ Dad said vaguely, slotting the last suitcase into the tiny space available in the boot of a Toyota Yaris. ‘I suppose she’s moderately satisfactory, as daughters go.’

‘There you are,’ said Mum. ‘Fulsome praise from your father. I am confidently expecting an epitaph reading “Could have been worse”.’ She sighed. ‘Well, love, I’ll be back in a few weeks. Or maybe earlier.’ She wiped her eyes impatiently on a scrap of tissue.

‘I’ve put a bit of money in your account to help with the flights,’ I said.

‘Jo, love –’

‘Look, you can pay me back if it turns out you don’t need it.’ Early spring is a particularly lean time of year for those who earn their living from seasonal milk production. You’d better go, or you’ll miss your plane.’ I kissed Dad’s

A FEW DAYS
later I went down the hall from Aunty Rose’s room to check the progress of tonight’s casserole and found Matt leaning against the living-room sideboard, reading something in the dim light from the hall.

‘Hey,’ he said, closing his book hastily and standing up straight. ‘How’s the wood situation?’

‘We’ve got heaps.’ I looked round him towards the faded cloth cover of the book, and he stepped sideways to block my view.

‘Nosy, aren’t you?’ he murmured, bending his head to kiss me.

I smiled and kissed him back, slipping my hands up under his sweatshirt against the warm skin of his back. Then, attempting to emulate a sexy undercover KGB agent from a Bond movie, I eased one hand back down again and grabbed the book behind him. ‘Hah!’ I said in triumph, twisting out of his arms to examine it.

‘You’re such an egg,’ Matt informed me.

I put Aunty Rose’s
Kipling’s Verse
back on the sideboard and leant my forehead against his shoulder, touched by his actions if not his words. ‘I love you.’

‘You’re still an egg.’ He kissed the side of my neck. ‘Is Rose awake?’

‘She’s going to get up for dinner – she’s just having a nap first.’

WE WERE SHARING
the chaise longue and the paper when a car roared up the hill.

‘Finished with the sports section?’ Matt asked.

‘Trade you for world news.’

‘Libya’s still a mess, and the French farmers are rioting.’

‘Why?’ I asked, handing over the rugby page.

‘Didn’t bother to read that far,’ he said. ‘Just to pass the time, I expect.’

Kim opened the kitchen door and came in, Andy behind her. ‘How’s Aunty Rose?’ she asked.

‘Getting up for dinner, she thought,’ I said. ‘Just napping in the meantime.’

She nodded. ‘Cool. Is there enough for us?’

‘Heaps. Hi, Andy.’ I swung my legs over Matt’s to stand up. ‘Anyone got any objection to peas and carrots?’

‘Peas are such a cop-out vegetable,’ Kim remarked. ‘Remove from freezer, put in pot, boil for about three minutes.’

‘You forgot the most important step,’ her brother told her. ‘Add butter.’

‘Just about every known food can be improved by adding butter,’ I said dreamily. ‘Or lemon juice and sugar. Or both.’

Andy shook his head. ‘Not pizza,’ he said. ‘Or ice cream.’

‘Have you never buttered the back of a piece of cold pizza?’ Matt asked, reshuffling the paper into some form of order. ‘You should. Jo, what have you done with the TV guide?’

‘You had that section,’ I said. ‘Look harder.’

Kim snorted. ‘Man, you two are pathetic. You’ve been going out for a week, and you act like you’ve been married for twenty years.’

I made my way to the freezer to hunt for frozen peas. ‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘but you forget, Kimmy, that by the time you get to our age passion comes a distant second to companionship.’

As he located and perused the TV guide, Matt tucked the corners of his mouth in firmly, and managed quite a reasonable impression of a man who would never
dream
of deflecting someone into the woodshed on her way in from the washing line to have sex against a stack of logs. A little splintery, but entirely worth it.

‘Would you like me to cut up a carrot or two?’ Andy offered.

‘That’d be great,’ I said, opening the oven door and prodding a baked potato to see how soft it was. Aunty Rose’s bell rang and I straightened up again, but Kim had already whisked down the hall.

Andy unearthed a bag of carrots from the recesses of the fridge and put them on the table. ‘Where’s the chopping board?’

Matt passed it to him and began, in a leisurely sort of way, to set the table. ‘Did you get anything last night?’ he asked. Andy had, to the amazement of those who knew her, convinced Kim that crawling around in the wet dark with a spotlight and a rifle would be a fun way to spend Tuesday evening.

‘One rabbit and four possums,’ said Andy. ‘The possums were all hanging out around that pond below the cowshed, eating the new willow growth.’

‘How many did you see?’

Andy smiled as he began to decapitate carrots. ‘One rabbit and four possums,’ he repeated with quiet satisfaction. ‘It’s a lovely little pond – do you go out after ducks?’

‘Scotty and I usually wander out on opening morning,’ said Matt. ‘We’re not very serious about it.’

‘Serious duck shooting has a few major drawbacks,’ I observed.

‘Like having to eat ducks?’

‘That’s one. And pluck ducks.’ Of course, turkeys are worse; not only are they as ugly as sin but more often than not they’re crawling with lice. And they’re bigger than ducks, which means more of them to eat.

‘I like duck,’ said Andy mildly.

‘Come out next year, if you like,’ Matt offered.

Andy smiled, presumably at this vote of confidence in his chances at still being around next May. ‘Cool,’ he said.

IT WAS AFTER
eight and Andy had gone home when Hazel opened the kitchen door and came in with a rush, not bothering to remove her shoes. ‘Is Kim here?’ she demanded, with most un-Hazel-like crispness.