Flying the Coop (24 page)

‘So
you
were the partner he used to have!' exclaimed Chris, as everything continued to fall into place. ‘And you got the land on the side, and built your house there. And you've lived next door ever since!'

Jenny grimaced. ‘That must have been hard.'

‘Not really.' Dot shrugged again. ‘I hardly ever see him. First time I've spoken t'him in years was when I saw him here the other day.'

‘But . . .' Chris paused, rather puzzled, as she recalled Mac walking across to Dot's fence last Monday with the bucket. If they hadn't spoken to each other in years, what on earth had he been doing? But she decided to keep this piece of information to herself as she didn't want to inadvertently land Mac in even more trouble. Not that he didn't deserve it after despoiling her office desk.

‘Then that's why you were upset about him going up to Sydney!' Jenny looked delighted to have figured this out. ‘Because he's going to visit your son!'

‘I go up there
every
year for Christmas,' said Dot querulously, ‘so I'd like t'know what's going on.'

‘Maybe Neil's trying to get you back together?' suggested Jenny.

‘Not likely.' Dot paused and then sniffed. ‘Is something burning, love?'

‘Shit, the pizza!' Chris forgot all about Mac and Dot and buckets as she leapt up from her chair and hurried across to the oven. She removed the pizza and held it up to examine it. ‘No problem. Just a bit crispy on the edges.'

Chris slid the pizza onto an earthenware platter and, using a pair of kitchen scissors, cut it into slices. Then she placed the platter on the table together with some bread and butter plates and a handful of serviettes.

‘Enjoy!'

‘This looks delicious!' said Dot happily, as she removed a slice of pizza and placed it on a plate before her. ‘Wait till I tell the girls at the centre that I've had pizza!'

‘It's called living dangerously,' said Jenny, helping herself to the least crispy slice.

‘Dot . . .' Chris's mind was still trying to fit the final pieces of the jigsaw together. ‘The woman that you caught Mac with,
please
tell me it wasn't –'

‘Elsie De Bries!' Dot spat out the words – and two pieces of pineapple, which she immediately collected and placed on the side of her plate. ‘Sorry.'

‘Elsie De Bries!' repeated Chris, crinkling up her nose in distaste. ‘How
could
he!'

‘My sentiments exactly,' commented Dot. ‘Of all the women, he had t'pick
her
! Then again, she was probably one of the few that he hadn't already – you know.'

‘I get the picture,' Chris grimaced. ‘In fact I'll probably need therapy to get rid of it.'

‘She was helping with the paperwork,' continued Dot, ‘while I was away. So I guessed she'd be here. I just didn't expect him t'be . . . be–'

‘Giving her a hand?' offered Jenny helpfully, as she selected another slice of pizza.

‘And you know what he said in his defence?' Dot shook her head in wonderment. ‘That they didn't use the bedroom. Because
that
would have been beyond the pale.'

Chris rolled her eyes. ‘Elsie De Bries! But I don't even think she's human!'

‘
That
wouldn't stop him,' said Dot snidely. Then, as if she suddenly realised what her last statement implied, her eyes widened and she continued quickly: ‘Yes, it would. I didn't mean that. That is, Mac certainly doesn't . . . you know.'

‘No we don't.' Jenny tried to look innocent. ‘Please explain.'

‘Ignore her,' Chris said to Dot. ‘But, tell me, Mac and Elsie aren't still an item, are they?
Please
tell me they're not.'

‘I don't think so,' replied Dot slowly. ‘Helen down at the community centre has a sister whose next-door neighbour married Elsie's cousin. And
she
says that nobody'd touch Elsie
nowadays with a ten-foot pole. But that's beside the point. Do you know what he did when he found out I wasn't coming back?' Dot went on without waiting for an answer: ‘He hired her t'do the office work.
Every
Saturday!'

Jenny tossed her pizza crust onto the platter and leant back, patting her stomach happily. ‘Not having met the lady, the finer points of this conversation are beyond me.'

‘That was low.' Chris shook her head sadly.

‘Yes,' said Dot glumly, picking at her pizza.

‘All men are jerks,' commented Jenny.

‘Not
all
,' Dot corrected. ‘My Neil is lovely.'

‘Do you know,' continued Jenny, waving her champagne flute in the air, ‘between the three of us, we have
such
a wealth of experience, we should bottle it!'

‘Or write a book,' said Chris, nodding. ‘And call it “things we've learnt”.'

‘Like all men are guilty until proven innocent,' said Jenny.

‘And can't be trusted,' added Dot, getting into the spirit.

‘And those of us with male children,' said Chris gravely, ‘have a
responsibility
to bring them up, well . . . responsibly.'

‘And we can add other stuff.' Jenny pointed her now empty glass at Chris. ‘Practical stuff, like
always
keep your own bank account. And never go out with a guy who can't parallel park.'

‘And defrost your chickens properly,' added Dot sagely, ‘or you risk salmonella.'

‘Oh, and I've got another one!' Jenny put her glass down excitedly. ‘Never
ever
use a tampon just after you've applied Dencorub.'

‘Yecch,' said Chris with a grimace.

‘I'm learning so many new things this evening,' said Dot delightedly. ‘Although I doubt the last one'll come in very handy nowadays. But I've finally tasted pizza,
and
I've used a computer, and – now I think it's time I went home.'

‘Really?' Chris was surprised to realise she was rather disappointed. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Positive.' Dot fished out her handbag and then heaved herself up. ‘It's been a real pleasure, girls. And I hope we'll do it again sometime.'

‘We certainly will.' Jenny grinned slowly at the older woman. ‘And then we'll find out all your
other
secrets!'

‘I don't think there's any left, love!'

Dot took her empty champagne flute over to the sink and then, after all the goodbyes had been said, left via the office door. Chris stacked the pizza plates in a pile, placed them on top of the now empty platter and shoved it up to one end of the table. Then she leant back contentedly.

‘What do you think? Should we call it quits as well?'

‘Definitely not.' Jenny picked up the champagne bottle and refilled her glass. ‘The night is yet young.'

‘Unlike us.'

‘That sort of negative talk will get you nowhere. Don't forget it's no fu'rries night.'

‘Actually –' Chris glanced up at the kitchen clock – ‘it's no fu'rries morning.'

Jenny picked up her glass, surveyed Chris thoughtfully through the crystal for a moment and then put it down again. ‘D'you know, there's something I've been meaning to ask you, and seeing I'm partially sozzled and can't be held responsible, I may as well do it now.'

‘Oh, god. Do you
have
to?'

‘Years ago, before you had the kids,' continued Jenny, taking no notice of Chris's reaction, ‘I remember how you and Garth had this long-term plan that you were going to eventually buy a place out in the country. A hobby farm or something. So, what I wanted to ask was did you do this because of that?'

‘Of course not,' Chris snapped, frowning across the table.
But instead of backing off, Jenny simply raised her eyebrows and waited patiently. Chris took a sip of champagne and then sighed. ‘Maybe. I don't know. What difference does it make anyway?'

‘Well, it makes a
lot
of difference if you thought it might help you get Garth back.'

Chris jumped to her feet. ‘I don't
want
him back!'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Absolutely positive!' Chris sat back down again and stared at Jenny through narrowed eyes. ‘I don't even know where you got that from. No idea.'

‘Then I'll tell you, but don't get all upset. Just hear me out. See, when I stayed with you last time, I got this idea that you . . . well, were having trouble moving on. Don't say anything yet.' Jenny held up a hand momentarily. ‘It was because
everything
was still the same. I mean, I know why you stayed in the house, but even the furniture was exactly the same. And he'd pop around every so often and have a coffee or a glass of wine with you. It was almost like he'd never left. God, Chris, you were even still wearing his
t-shirt
to bed.'

‘It was comfortable,' mumbled Chris defensively.

‘The whole thing was perfect for
him
. Talk about having your cake and eating it too. He managed to leave without really leaving. But I never understood why
you
put up with it. I mean, how many dates have you been on in the last four years?'

‘Um . . . none.'

‘Exactly.' Jenny nodded with satisfaction. ‘You haven't moved on at
all
. Then, when I heard about this farm thing, first I was worried that this was you leaping in without looking. And maybe losing everything. Because you've always had the concentration span of a dead gnat – but that's more because you're
afraid
of failing than actually losing interest. Anyway,
then I mulled it over and thought maybe it was a
good
thing, that even if it
does
go bust, it's made you move away from Garth and everything. But
then
I thought that maybe it was
because
of Garth that you'd done it.'

‘A dead gnat, hey? Well, you know what? I think you spend way too much time thinking about me.' Chris wrapped both hands around her champagne glass and stared down into the sparkling liquid. ‘
Much
too much.'

‘You're probably right. But am I wrong?'

‘I thought this was supposed to be no fu'rries night?'

‘Am I?'

‘God, Jen.' Chris finally looked across at her friend and sighed resignedly. ‘
I
don't know. I really don't. But you
are
wrong if you think I want him back. I don't.' She shook her head emphatically, knowing it was true. ‘I
really
don't. Apart from anything else, there's so much more . . .
room
in my life without him. But the problem is that I simply can't imagine myself with anyone else.'

‘I know what you mean.' Jenny fell silent.

‘And I'm not just talking about sex either,' Chris continued. ‘I'm talking about
everything
. Like holding hands, or sharing a wardrobe, or chatting in the bathroom. Or even someone seeing me put my bra on. All the little things, the
sharing
things – I can't imagine me doing it with another guy. Not at all.'

‘Yeah.'

‘And I can
tell
you know what I'm talking about.' Chris looked at her friend sympathetically. ‘Like even now, with what Stuart's done, can you
see
yourself going out with another guy? Starting over?'

‘I'm getting there.' Jenny thinned her lips. ‘Just give me time.'

‘Well, I've
given
myself time.' Chris could hear the whine in her voice but couldn't help it. ‘Four whole years! And even
when I was setting this house up, I'd catch myself thinking: would Garth like this cabinet here? Stuff like that. It's
ridiculous
.'

‘Not really,' Jenny said slowly. ‘I think it's especially hard for you because he was the domineering type. And don't forget you were together for seventeen years. That's a long time. You were sort of trained to see things his way. You know, like Pavlov's dogs.'

‘Thanks.' Chris rolled her eyes.

‘I know what you need.' Jenny nodded her head decisively and then chuckled. She always had a particular way of chuckling that had such a dirty undercurrent it sounded almost pornographic. ‘You need to get laid.'

‘Sure,' said Chris derisively. ‘Hang on, I'll just get my little black book.'

‘No, they'll all be married by now.' Jenny looked reflective. ‘Or dead. No, we need to find someone around
here
.'

‘Bad luck that I got off on the wrong foot with the alpaca, isn't it?'

‘And that's not all you need,' Jenny continued, ignoring her. ‘You need to make a success of this place. You need to get your self-esteem back, accomplish something
without
Garth. In fact, I think buying this place might have been the best thing that you could've done. Because it doesn't matter whether it was once a dream for
both
of you. What matters is that it was a dream for
you
. So now you've reclaimed it. And when you pull it off, you'll get back confidence in yourself and then we won't have a problem getting you laid. Guys love confident women.'

‘They do?'

‘Well, they
should
,' amended Jenny. ‘So now we've got a two-stage plan. Get this place running successfully, then get you laid. Maybe even that Neil guy, next time he visits his mother. Simple.'

‘Yeah. Simple.'

‘So that's those problems sorted. What else do you need me to solve?'

‘Actually, I think –'

‘You know, I'm not much of a yellow fan,' interrupted Jenny as she picked up the champagne bottle and pointed it towards the kitchen area. ‘But those kitchen cupboards look
very
cheerful.'

‘You're drunk.'

‘This is true. And why aren't you?'

‘Well, I'm midway there.'

‘Then stop slacking and catch up.' Jenny tilted the bottle over Chris's glass.