House of Sticks (9 page)

Bonnie turned to the front again. Pete passed her the cup, and she fitted it to the thermos and wound it tightly, feeling the seal take hold.

It was late afternoon when they got home. The twins went running through the rooms, snatching up toys as if everything was new. She and Pete carried loads in from the car and dumped them on the floors of the laundry and kitchen. They slumped at the table. Bonnie rubbed her eyes. She felt dirty and tired.

‘What shall we do for dinner?' said Pete, and exhaustion overwhelmed her — that paralysing inertia that always descended at the thought of having to cook, to prepare food and serve it, to tidy everything away afterwards, save leftovers, wash dishes, wipe down the table, sweep the floor. Only to go through the whole bloody thing the next morning, afternoon, evening. Again and again, over and over.

‘Takeaway?'

‘Sounds good.'

Pete rang the Thai place and at six went to pick it up. Bonnie put on a load of washing and got the twins in the bath. She began to lay the table. There was a newspaper folded on it, the form guide on top. She picked it up and looked at the date — Saturday. Yesterday. She refolded it. Put it on the bench. Stepped into the middle of the room and turned slowly around. In the dish rack were plates, cutlery, wineglasses. The dishes she'd washed and left to dry on Friday morning were in a stack on the bench. She went to the laundry door and checked the recycling box, which she'd emptied on Thursday night. A champagne bottle and four Coronas.

Jess was crying from her chair in the kitchen. Bonnie picked her up and walked into the living room. Nothing that she could see. The cushions were flattened on the couch, one of them on the floor, but that could have been how they'd left things, or done by the twins since. She stood with the baby in front of the unlit gas heater. She wasn't sure but she thought she could smell something — a trace of cigarette smoke, and something else, perfume maybe. Very faint, but unpleasant, sharp, one of those perfumes that actually hurt her nostrils, that made her think of cheap clothes and bad make-up.

The front door opened and footsteps went down the hall.

‘Dinner,' called Pete. ‘Hello?'

She went back to the kitchen. ‘Pete.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Someone's been here. In the house.'

‘Really?' Pete was taking the lids off the plastic tubs. ‘Oh yeah,' he said, in a light voice. ‘That'd be Douggie.'

‘What?'

‘Yeah, I gave him a key. I asked him to drop in both days and give that table a coat of oil. I really wanted to get it all finished so I could deliver it this week and get on with the Grant job.'

She watched him putting out plates and forks, glasses of milk for the kids. ‘But why did you give him a key to the house?'

Pete took a spoon and started heaping rice onto the plates. ‘Well, you know, I thought he might like to come inside. Take a break, make himself a cup of tea.'

‘But he can make himself tea in the workshop.'

‘Bonnie. Come on. Don't kick up a big stink about this. It's no big deal. I asked him to come and work on that table over the weekend — do me a favour — and I gave him a key to the house so he could take a break. Get warm in front of the heater. Maybe watch a bit of telly. The races were on.' He put down the spoon. ‘I don't think he's got telly at that place he's staying. And it's cold, you know — I mean, the poor bugger —'

There was a yell from the bathroom. ‘Mum!'

‘Coming.' She tried to put Jess down in her chair, but the baby protested, so she picked her up again. ‘Well, I think he had someone over here. Like a woman or something.'

‘What makes you think that?'

‘They used wineglasses. They're in the dish rack.'

He looked over at the sink. ‘How do you know it was Douggie? Maybe we left them. Didn't we have some wine the other night?'

‘Mu-um!'

‘Coming.' She put Jess in the chair, and the baby immediately started to cry again. Bonnie gave the chair a little rock and straightened up. ‘Sorry, possum,' she said, ‘I've got to get the big kids out of the bath.' At the doorway she turned back to Pete. ‘There's an empty bottle of cheap champagne and some beers in the recycling.' No answer. Bonnie glanced at the table, the plates of food. ‘That's too much for the kids,' she said, raising her voice over the crying. ‘They'll never eat all that. It's just a waste.'

‘What're you doing?'

She didn't look up from the bed. ‘Changing the sheets.'

‘Didn't we put clean ones on the other day?'

Bonnie didn't answer. She threw the last pillowcase into the pile on the floor, started tugging at the mattress, lifting the corner of it out of the frame and pulling off the fitted sheet.

Pete came over to her. ‘Hang on,' he said. ‘I'm supposed to help you with that.'

She kept pulling at the sheet. She got one corner up and went to do the next.

‘Bon,' said Pete, and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on. Didn't the physio say you still shouldn't lift too much?'

‘Yeah, right.' She shrugged him off and went round to the other side of the bed. ‘And of course I never lift anything, like Jess all the time, and the other kids, and all the bloody bags when we go to swimming and the library and kinder …' She was choking with anger. Her back was hurting, and her throat. She sank down on the mattress, the sheet in a tangle beside her. Pete came and tried to put his arm around her. Bonnie glared up at him. ‘Don't you think I have enough to deal with, without bloody Doug? I mean, what's going on with him? He's — he's using our house now? To entertain his friends?'

‘Shh.' He glanced towards the door. ‘You'll wake up the kids.'

She pulled her shoulders forward, away from his touch. Her hands were fists in her lap. She lowered her voice to a hiss. ‘This is creeping me out, Pete. I wish you'd told me you were giving him a key to the house. I had a pair of dirty undies lying right here on the floor.'

Pete took his arm back. ‘Look, Bonnie. I feel weird about him coming in the house too. Especially if he did bring someone else here. I just thought he'd —'

‘We don't know what he's been doing! For all we know he's been shagging some woman in our bed!'

‘Come on, he wouldn't do that.'

Bonnie stared down at her hands. She shook her head. ‘I don't know. I don't know what he's capable of. I don't understand him. I don't understand why a grown man would still be living the way he does, hand to mouth, staying with friends, doing shit work …'

‘He's depressed,' said Pete. ‘He hates working for me, I can tell. And I don't blame him — it's really fucking boring. I'm sure he'd rather be doing something else. But I guess he's … well, he's getting older, and he doesn't have any skills really, and I guess he's not all that employable. And' — Pete sighed — ‘he's hard to get along with. You know, I think he's got the sack from his last few jobs.'

‘I know. I know all this!' Bonnie threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. ‘God, I'm sick of having this conversation.' She took a breath. ‘If you want to be Doug's friend and show him some support because he's depressed then go out and have a beer with him, or go to the races, or go out for dinner. Or invite him over here for dinner. Be his friend. Don't try to solve his problems for him by finding work for him to do. I mean, he's a grown-up — he needs to solve his own problems. You said yourself he hates the work. Do you really think it's helping?'

‘Yeah. You're probably right. But, you know, it's been really good for me having someone around to do odd jobs this past week, and I'll need extra help with the Grant job. And it's easy for you to say that I should just cut him off and leave him to solve his own problems, but …' He looked down at his hands. ‘You know, when I say I think he's depressed — well, a couple of times he's said stuff, kind of like he's joking, but really, you know, I think it's true …'

‘What stuff?'

‘That he feels, you know … suicidal.'

‘Look, Pete. This is all just so messy. And I don't want to keep fighting with you. I'm not saying you should cut him off. I just don't think you should mix business with friendship. It's as simple as that.'

‘Yeah, but it's happened now.' He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I don't feel good about it either but I don't know what I can do.'

Bonnie carried the sheets to the laundry. She stuffed them into the hamper on top of the rest of the clothes from the weekend. Then she pulled one of the pillowcases back out. Holding it by a corner she put it up near her face. Breathed in. Nothing. She was pretty sure anyway. She dropped it back on the pile.

She went into the kitchen, to the cupboard where she'd put the two glasses from the dish rack away with the rest. Opened the door. Took down the first glass. Held it by the stem, up to the light, turned it slowly, running her eyes along the rim.
What are you doing?
She put the glass back and shut the door. Stood by the bench with her cardigan pulled tight around her. An image came to her: Friday, the glimpse from the car window, the woman with the bucket. Her hidden face; the house with its mean, barricaded look. Bonnie stood up straight. ‘So what?' she said out loud, into the empty room. ‘So what? Doesn't matter.'

She walked back into the laundry and took the wet load from the machine. Then she went into the living room, opened out the clotheshorse in front of the heater and started hanging the clothes on it.

‘Mornin', Boss. Missus Bonnie. Kids.' Doug came in the back door, saluting them each in turn. He swiped at the mat with his boots, and flapped his arms against his sides. ‘Cold out there.'

‘Hi, Doug.' Bonnie got up from the table, moved over to the compost bin and scraped out her bowl.

‘No porridge left this morning, sorry, Douggie,' said Pete. ‘But there's Weeties or toast.'

‘I'll have Weeties, thanks, Boss,' said Doug. ‘You're too good to me.'

Bonnie stood at the sink. She couldn't look around. The skin on her back felt cold, even under her clothes. She neatened the stack of dirty dishes and listened.

‘So when're we off to get the timber?' said Doug.

‘I don't have to pick it up,' said Pete. ‘The guy's delivering.'

Doug spoke through mouthfuls of cereal. ‘Oh. Well. I actually feel a bit disappointed. I was looking forward to a trip to the country.'

Bonnie grabbed the cloth and wiped the bench.
What makes you think you'd be going?
Her teeth were clenched.

Pete stood up. ‘I'm going to make a start,' he said. ‘Got a meeting with Grant later, so better try to get a bit done this morning. Bye, you guys.' He kissed the twins, and went over to her. ‘Bye, Bon.' Bonnie raised her face to kiss him back, and he met her eyes. She thought she saw something there, some acknowledgement, a flicker of shared feeling, but then he said, ‘Have a great day,' the way he always did and she wasn't sure.

Pete went to the door. ‘See you out there, Douggie.'

‘I'll hold the fort then,' called Doug as the door swung shut. ‘This arvo. I'll be able to actually get some work done, without you getting in me way.'

‘What's the fort?' said Edie.

‘It's a saying, darling,' she said, going over to her and touching her hair. ‘It means that someone will look after a house or a place while another person's away.'

‘Is Douggie looking after us? Where're you going, Mum?'

‘Oh, no — I'm not going anywhere. Just Dad's got a meeting later today. But you guys'll be at kinder anyway. And I'll take care of Jess. And Doug' — she kept her eyes on Edie's face — ‘Doug'll be doing some things in the workshop.'

Across the table Louie put down his spoon. ‘Does Douggie make furniture too?'

‘Well …' She turned to Louie. Doug's shape throbbed at the corner of her eye. It was as if her gaze was pushed away from him, repelled by some force field. ‘Well, what Doug does,' she said slowly, as the Doug shape continued to spoon up cereal in her peripheral vision, ‘is he … he helps Dad make the furniture.'

Doug slurped a last gulp, put the spoon in the bowl and carried it to the sink. At last Bonnie looked at him, at his back. ‘That's me,' he said, putting the things down with a flourish. ‘Chief bottlewasher and general dogsbody.' He took a mug from the pile of dirty dishes and swished it under the tap. Then he came back to the table and poured tea into it, lifting the teapot high so the brown stream went long and thin. Louie and Edie stared. Doug slitted one eye in a slow wink. ‘You don't mind, do you, Missus Bonnie?' he said. ‘I like your tea better than those teabags the boss's got out there.'

‘Pete gave him a key,' said Bonnie.

‘Why?' said Mel.

‘I don't know. He was doing some stuff in the workshop — Pete asked him to; this table needed a couple of coats of oil or something — and Pete said he thought he might want to come inside to warm up, take a break or whatever.'