House of Sticks (13 page)

‘Yeah.' Bonnie smiled and rolled her eyes at him. ‘You were right.'

‘Well, we had a good day,' said Pete. ‘We went to the park, and we took some snacks, a picnic —'

‘And we had chocolates,' said Edie.

‘Chocolates!' said Louie.

‘Yeah.' Pete made a sheepish face. ‘I gave these guys some chocolate as a special treat because they were so good at the park.'

‘Right.' She shook her head. ‘They're going to want you to look after them every day.'

‘Yes!' said Edie. ‘Dad can look after us every day, and we can have chocolates every day, and go to the park and then have another chocolate.'

‘Chocolates!' said Louie.

Bonnie laughed.

‘And these guys made a cubby,' said Pete. ‘In the living room.'

‘Yes, yes — come and see our cubby.' Louie and Edie jumped up and down.

‘I'll come when I've finished feeding Jess, okay?'

‘Okay.' Louie turned to Edie. ‘Let's go and make sure the cubby hasn't fallen down,' he said, and they ran out.

She looked down at Jess. ‘I missed you, little possum.'

‘Sorry about the chocolates,' said Pete. ‘I just couldn't resist giving them a treat — they were so good. They walked all the way to the park, and when I said it was time to leave they didn't even make a fuss.'

‘That's all right.' She changed Jess to the other side. ‘I guess you just confirmed your status as Mr Nice Guy, and tomorrow they'll be stuck with me again — the ogre.'

‘Oh, come on — they love you.' Pete piled carrots on the chopping board. ‘All day it was, “This drawing's for Mum,” and, “Let's save this and show it to Mum when she gets home.”'

‘Well, that's nice to hear.'

Pete sighed. ‘I'm absolutely buggered though. I don't know how you do it.'

‘Yeah, I don't know either sometimes. Oh well. I'm the one who wanted to have all these children.' She glanced at the back door. ‘So did Doug turn up?'

‘No,' said Pete. ‘Not sure what's happened to him. He hasn't been around for a while.'

‘Yeah. Weird.'

There was a silence.

‘Come on, Mum!' yelled Louie from the next room.

‘Actually,' said Pete. ‘I think he might be a bit upset that we didn't invite him to the kids' birthday party.'

She looked at him. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, what I said. I think he might be offended that we didn't invite him.'

‘But of course we didn't invite him. It was just friends and family.'

‘He's a friend.'

‘The kids' friends, I meant. We didn't invite any of our friends — except Greg and Kylie, and I didn't even know you'd invited them. Other than that it was all kinder people, and Mel and Josh and Freddie, and Mum.' She sat Jess up on her lap and fixed her own bra and top. ‘And that was it.'

‘Yeah, but you know,' said Pete, ‘he's been around here a lot, and I think he really enjoys seeing the kids and playing with them, and he's on his own really —'

‘But hang on. How did he find out anyway?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘About the party? How did he even know it was on? Did you tell him?'

‘No. I didn't. He — I think he actually drove past on the day. Saw the balloons.'

She stood up, sat Jess on her hip. ‘Really? What would he be doing driving past here on a weekend? Where's he living again? I thought it was over in Flemington or something.'

‘Yeah, it is — Flemington.'

‘Well, why would he be driving around here?'

‘I don't know. I didn't ask.' Pete was keeping his back to her, stirring the food on the stove.

She went closer, stood behind him. She could feel her voice creeping up, getting tense. ‘So he actually said he drove past and saw the balloons?'

‘Yeah.'

‘He just happened to be driving past?'

‘Yeah.'

‘And you don't find that weird?'

Pete turned to face her. ‘You obviously do.'

‘Well, it's not as if we're on a main road. I mean, this is a tiny street — we don't get much through traffic. It's not on the way to anywhere. I find it hard to believe he would have a reason to drive past here other than to — I don't know — check up on us.'

Pete sighed. He put the wooden spoon down on the bench.

She kept looking at him. ‘Come on,' she said. ‘You've got to admit it seems a bit weird.'

‘Okay.' He spread his hands. ‘Yes, it does seem weird. Okay? Happy?'

‘Mum?' It was Louie in the doorway.

‘Yes, darling?'

‘Come on. Come and see our cubby.'

‘Okay. Okay. I just need to … Hang on just one sec.' Bonnie lifted Jess sideways and pulled her pants halfway down. ‘Yuck. How long has this poo been in here?'

‘I don't know.' Pete turned back to the stove. ‘I've been busy doing everything else.'

‘Come on, Mum,' said Louie.

‘Well, it's gone all over her singlet.' She went towards the hallway, holding Jess out in front of her. ‘Hang on, Lou-Lou. I'll just change this nappy and then I'll come, okay?'

‘Come on, Mum!' Louie pulled at her skirt. ‘Come and see the cubby!'

‘Just wait, please, Louie — I have to change this nappy.' She tried to push past him.

‘No — come now!'

‘Louie!' Bonnie stuck out one knee and tried to dislodge him. ‘Let go. I'll come in a minute, all right?'

Louie gave the skirt a last, ferocious tug and shoved himself away, head down, shoulders drooping. ‘You never come.'

‘Oh, Lou, I'm sorry, it's just …'

But he was gone, stomping away.

‘Bloody hell,' she muttered. She got a better grip on the baby, who was starting to complain, and turned back to Pete. ‘Well, I think it's weird, him driving past here on the weekend. I think it's weird and creepy.'

Pete swung around. ‘What do you want me to do? Do you want me to fire him? How about you fire him? Go on. You can ring him up now and fire him, and tell him it's because he drove past our house and because he might've taken some coins and because he might've had someone over here for dinner when I gave him the key, and because you don't like him being around here and because you just don't like him.'

Anger shivered through her. ‘I'm not the one who hired him!' she yelled. ‘I would never have hired him because I think it's a fucking stupid fucking idea!' Jess began to wail. Bonnie carried her out into the hallway. But then she stopped and went back. She took a deep breath and held her voice in, kept it calm and even. ‘And actually, Pete, I don't not like Doug. I think he's a good guy underneath it all. I think he's pretty weird but, you know, he's probably harmless. But I've been put in this situation where I can't just — I don't know — be kind and generous, and tolerant, and all the things I'd like to be, because he's — he's bloody well in my face all the time. And I'm worn out by it. And you — you are the one who's put me in this situation.' She felt her voice tremble, but she kept it low. ‘It's you. You've done this.'

Doug didn't turn up the next morning. Bonnie, showered and dressed early just in case, kept glancing at the door as she made breakfast for the kids and then sat down to eat her own. She shovelled in mouthfuls of muesli, her eyes on the pane of glass, the bare wind-beaten arms of the apricot tree, the waving tendrils of the wisteria vine, dun-coloured, dead-looking. She kept expecting his face to come bobbing into view.

The children got down from the table and ran off somewhere.

Pete came in, hair still wet from the shower, pulling on his jumper. ‘Coffee?' He stood behind her, massaged her shoulders.

She leaned back. ‘Yes, please.'

‘You still pissed off with me?' He bent to kiss her neck.

‘No.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘I'm sorry too. I understand how hard it must be for you. You're sort of … stuck in the middle.'

Pete went over to the sink. ‘Hey, I was thinking,' he said.

‘Yeah?'

‘I'll get my first lot of payment from Grant this week.'

‘Yeah?'

‘So.' Pete lifted down the coffee canister. ‘Let's put some of it aside. Like four thousand. And let's — like at the start of next year maybe, when Jess is old enough to leave with your mum for a while, but before the twins start school — let's go away for a week. Just the two of us. Thailand or Vietnam, or something.' He glanced over at her. ‘Give ourselves a bit of a reward for this hard year.'

Bonnie sat up straighter in her chair. She felt it all dissolve, the cramped irritation, the tiredness and strain.

‘Although … I don't know what season it'll be. We could save it till winter next year. Or would that be too long a wait?'

She smiled.

He came over and picked up the milk from the table. ‘Or Bali? Just lie on a beach somewhere for a week and eat nice food.'

She reached out her arms. ‘Come here.'

‘What?' Pete went closer. She put her arms around his waist and pulled him down, tried to make him sit on her knee. He wobbled, splayed his legs, gripped the edge of the table, laughing. ‘What're you doing?'

She kissed him, his face, his neck. ‘God I love you,' she said. ‘I love you so much.'

Pete laughed again. ‘So you want to do it?'

‘It sounds like the best idea ever in the whole world.'

‘Where should we go? When?'

‘Oh god, anywhere. Whenever.'

‘And do you think your mum'll be okay with the kids?'

‘Well, she'll just bloody well have to be.'

‘What're you two doing?' It was Edie, in the doorway.

Pete tried to get up, but Bonnie pulled him down again. ‘I'm cuddling Dad,' she said. ‘Because I love him so much.'

‘Oh.' Edie kept watching. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pyjama top.

‘Yuck, Edie,' said Pete.

‘You're squashing Mum,' said Edie.

‘She seems to want to be squashed,' said Pete.

Bonnie kept her arms around him, felt his solid weight on her thighs, his body pushing hers against the chair-back. She tightened her hold. ‘I do.'

Mel rang. ‘Did you do the recording?' she said. ‘How did it go?'

‘It was great.' Bonnie stood at the clothesline with the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. ‘I was so nervous but it was fine — it went really well.'

‘That's great.'

‘Yeah.' She unpegged clothes and dropped them into the basket at her feet. ‘And it was so nice to go to work! To this place where no one hassles you, where you can focus on a task and finish it, and then you can just make a cup of tea and sit down and finish that!'

Mel laughed. ‘I know. It's amazing, isn't it? I couldn't believe how easy work was when I went back, compared to being at home with Freddie.'

‘I can imagine.' Bonnie moved to the other end of the line, pushing the basket over the grass with her foot. The back of her neck was cold. She pulled at her scarf. ‘Mickey wants me to play some shows with her.'

‘Really? Will you do it?'

‘I don't know — it's all a bit hard.'

‘You must miss it though? Touring? You did so much of it. You were always off on the road somewhere.'

‘I don't know.' Bonnie dropped the last piece of clothing into the basket, straightened, took the phone in her hand, uncrooked her neck. ‘Sometimes, yeah. There were lots of good things about it.'

‘I bet.'

‘But, you know, when I was doing it, when I'd been doing it for ages and it was my life and took up all my time … I was sick of it then. I hated it. It's — I don't know — it's kind of an empty way of life. You're always moving, you have all these weird superficial relationships.' She lifted the basket and went towards the porch steps. ‘You meet so many great people, interesting people, but you never really get to know them — you see them once every six months or whatever, and you just go out somewhere, get drunk, have the same old conversations, and say goodbye.'

‘Right.'

Bonnie set the basket of clothes down on the kitchen table. She stood looking at the fridge, its bristle of papers, the twins' drawings and paintings, notices from the childcare centre. ‘I remember, when I met Pete, when I went back to his place and everything was just so calm, and settled. I mean, it was just a scungy share house, with crappy furniture and everything, but — well, he's a bit older, so it was more organised, I guess.' Bonnie moved closer to the fridge. ‘Anyway, there was this moment, the next morning, sitting at the kitchen table. There was just something so straight about him. He wasn't trying to play any games or anything, act cool. I said, “I have to go, I have to catch a plane.” And he just looked at me and said “Oh! I wish you could stay.”'