Lessons From Ducks (12 page)

He’d never wanted anyone more in his life than he wanted her in that moment. The feeling came from nowhere, the intensity of it stealing the breath from his lungs. In that moment he needed to touch her, to taste her, to feel her skin against his own. He wanted to tear the swimsuit from her body, fall to the grass with her and feel her legs around his waist while he made her moan his name into the sky.

If Oscar hadn’t flicked him with his towel just then, reminding him of his presence, he might have reached out for her. It took a moment for his head to clear and for his eyes to focus on his son.

“You ok dad?”

“What?”

“You look funny.”

Anna finished wrapping her towel around her waist and turned to see what Oscar meant, and in doing so she just caught the tail end of longing before it fled from Matt’s eyes. Not before it had burnt her with its force though.

No one had ever looked at her like that. She thought men only looked at women like that in the movies, or those Mills and Boons books her nana used to devour. She straightened up and bit her bottom lip without even realising she was doing so, and busied herself checking the log to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. When she risked a glance at Matt again the look was gone, replaced with his normal jovial one.

“What about the ducks?” Oscar asked, oblivious to the atmosphere.

“They’ll follow us, you’ll see,” Anna said briskly, and she headed back along the way they had come. The shadows cast by the night swallowed her quickly, until they could only tell her passage by the sound of disturbed grass.

Chapter fourteen

“Penny for your thoughts? Of course, I’d expect you to bank it safely away for a rainy day haha,” Mr Hedley chuckled, pleased with his own wit.

Anna smiled. He would have to twist her thumbnails out with a corkscrew to get her to tell him what had been on her mind; specifically, the ‘look’ Matt had given her last weekend. Annoyingly, it was pretty much all she’d thought about in the minutes and hours and days since, despite varying attempts to distract herself.

“Morning Sir. I was just mentally making sure I’ve got everything ready for my next client,” she lied. “She wants to open her own business and needs a start up loan.”

“What sort of business?”

“Bookshop.”

“Oh dear, a risky venture in these hard economic times. Food, on the other hand; people will always buy food. Has she thought about opening a cafe instead?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps you should mention it.”

“I’ll do that Sir.”

“Good. Good.” Mr Hedley’s eyes momentarily glazed over. “Oh I miss those days,” he said wistfully. “The thrill of being the one to change someone’s life. Literally holding their dreams in your hands. There’s nothing like it is there?”

“No,” Anna agreed. “It’s the reason I walk through the door every single day.” This was also a lie, but a harmless one.

His face turned serious. “When you have a minute pop up to my office will you, I need to have a quick word.”

Anna’s heart quickened. Was this the day when he saw through her faked enthusiasm for the job and let her go? Despite her declarations that she couldn’t care less if she had her job or not, she’d never been fired from anything in her life, and would be mortified if it were to happen now at her age.

“I have a few minutes now, if that suits?”

Might as well rip the band aid off quickly.

“Your client?”

She consulted the clock on her computer. “Not due for another fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent. Come along then. No time like the present.”

She could feel her heart beating a little faster than normal as she followed him up the stairs. Keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the scuffed heels of his shoes she imagined this was akin to being summoned to the principal’s office, something else she’d never suffered the indignity of. It occurred to Anna that she’d led a pretty sheltered life, in terms of rebelliousness. Never parked anywhere she shouldn’t, littered, or shoplifted even so much as a pack of gum, despite her high school friends pocketing lipsticks and mascaras willy nilly as if it were the easiest thing on earth to do. Upon reflection, as Mr Hedley led her to his office and held the door open for her, she wished she had lived a little, kicked up her heels, let her hair down. Clichés like that. Then she remembered she was merely being summoned to her bosses’ office, not the hangman’s noose.

“Come in Anna,” he said, closing the door behind her and taking his seat behind his giant wooden desk.

Anna sat in one of the two green chairs on offer, dithering for a second over which one to choose – the one closest to the door in case she needed to run? – and settled for the one closest to the window for the view.

“How are you Anna?”

She gave him a bright smile. “Fine thanks Mr Hedley, just fine.”

His face clouded over. “It was a terrible thing, what happened to you. Still breaks my heart when I think about it.”

Anna clasped her hands in her lap and studied them.

“I know I’ve told you this before,” he continued, “but I do really admire the way you coped with everything. Not everyone has your strength, Anna.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t want to hear this. If he only knew how fresh the pain could feel some days, as if it had been only yesterday. She didn’t believe him either. If he knew how many nights she had sat on the floor in the dark, clutching an empty bottle - having consumed enough alcohol to fell a normal, healthy medium sized man - and fantasised about the various ways in which she could end it all, he wouldn’t think her strong. To her eternal regret, she lacked the courage and conviction to see them through.

He watched her eyes squeeze shut and realised he had inadvertently set her mind on a path into the past. He set about bringing it back. “Right,” he coughed loudly, “that’s not what I brought you up here to discuss. Anna I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours already, the ones concerning my retirement.”

Anna made a vague noise that could be construed as agreement.

“Sadly, they’re all true. It’s my time, I’m afraid. It’s probably been due awhile, truth be told.” He swivelled in his chair to survey the view out his window. From up here you could see all the way down Main Street, right from one end to the other. Anna followed his gaze as he watched people scurrying about their business on the street below. He sighed.

“I just wasn’t ready to give it all up.” A memory assailed him and he looked at her questioningly. “I lost a friend recently, John Cunningham, you know him?”

Anna shook her head. Should she?

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” He looked back out the window. “Forty five years that man dedicated to his business. One of the hardest workers I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Dropped dead last week on the golf course from a heart attack, just two weeks shy of retirement.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Poor guy didn’t even get to finish his game, only had one hole left to go. He was winning; at least he went out knowing that I suppose. It’s one thing to be grateful for.”

Anna nodded, not sure if it would have been of any consolation to the deceased.

“Funeral was yesterday. The family are devastated, understandably. It’s the wife I feel sorry for. She’s stood by him for all these years, running the household and raising the children. She’s been waiting for him to retire so they could finally get around to doing things together. Holidays all booked, cruises and safaris and the like. She’ll be lucky to get her deposits back now.”

Anna murmured sympathetically. She was starting to wonder how much longer this story was going to go on for, and its relevance to her.

“Life isn’t always fair, Anna.” Then he remembered who he was talking to and flushed. “But you of all people know that.”

That was enough. She didn’t need him to keep reminding her of what she had lost; she had an empty house and a permanent ache in her heart to do that. She tapped her watch pointedly. “Sir, was there something you wanted to discuss? Only I have a client due in, remember?”

“Yes, of course. I mustn’t keep customers waiting.” He straightened up at his desk, instantly looking less frail old man and more dignified businessman again. “Right, so as I was saying, the time to move on to the next chapter in my life is here. Obviously we need an efficient branch manager to take my place, -”

Anna’s heart quickened. Was he about to tell her she had the job?

“ – and after much deliberation the decision has been made to award the position to Judy.”

He smiled at her, waiting for her reaction.

Anna relaxed again, relieved. It was a position she held no desire for.

“I am aware she’s not the most,
popular
, person, but that’s part of the reason why it was decided she might be better suited up here and off the shop floor. Although please keep that little bit of information just between us.” He winked at her, his co-conspirator.

“Of course.” Fat chance.

He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Also between us, I put your name forward for the job, but it was felt by others that Judy has more experience over a broader range of areas.”

“Thank you anyway sir. I appreciate the thought.” And she did. Although she held no desire for the position it was nice to know he thought she was capable. It was just unfortunate that Judy had been the one chosen. Anna had a hunch things were about to become insufferable.

“I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself until it’s announced officially at the next staff meeting. I just wanted to let
you
know personally beforehand, as I know you and Judy don’t always see eye to eye. You will try to get on with her though Anna, will you? I know you have your differences but the others look up to you. If they see you making an effort to get to know Judy better they might make an effort also.”

This was putting things rather mildly. The differences between her and Judy were as obvious as the difference between a spade and a chair.

“Forget any past slights,” he continued, “let’s have a fresh start, a clean slate. I have every faith this bank will go on from strength to strength under her leadership.”

His optimism was misplaced, thought Anna. It was more likely to self combust with Judy at the helm. Not for the first time, she was in awe of the poor lack of judgment shown by management.

“I appreciate the heads up sir. For the record, I think the wrong choice has been made. Louise would have been a much better choice for the job, but only time will tell.”

Louise - forty something, kind face, pleasant natured and friend to all – was the one they’d all been hoping would get the promotion. She would be devastated by the announcement and Anna wondered if she should risk giving her a heads up. It was the nice thing to do and she knew if the shoe were on the other foot she would want someone to warn her. She would have a quiet word in her ear later, she decided.

Mr Hedley had the look of a man tempted to agree, but forty years of managerial diplomacy got the better of him. He stood up slowly, his bones taking their time to process the instructions from his brain so it looked for a moment as if he might fall, but at the last second the message got through and he rallied, straightening up intact.

Anna felt a small flooding of fondness towards him. As an employer he’d been more than a little understanding; after all, to put it mildly, there had been times when she’d been a rubbish employee. Days when she’d not bothered coming in to work, without even a phone call to let them know not to expect her. She had simply not shown up. Other days when she’d left suddenly without a word to anyone. Overwhelmed by too many people and too much noise she’d just picked up her handbag from under the desk and walked out.

Her unreliability had driven Judy wild. But not Mr Hedley. He’d had no words, but he’d smile at her sadly upon her return and pat her on the shoulder.

Joining him at the door he was once again holding open for her, she realised how much she would miss the sight of him wandering amiably around the building, shaking hands with customers, stooping to admire babies in prams. He was about as caring and genuine as they come, and people like him were hard to come by. Before the action had been approved by her brain she reached up and kissed him on his cheek; it felt papery and smelt like old spice, the same aftershave her grandfather had worn.

“Oh!”

She had surprised him. He smiled and touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had pressed. “What was that for?”

“Thank you,” she said, “for everything. Take care and enjoy retirement Sir. Don’t give this place another thought.”

“That’s unlikely Anna,” he chuckled, “you don’t spend as long as I have in a place without forming an attachment, but, thank you.”

She left him at the door to his office and paused at the top of the stairs to take a deep breath and compose herself, before descending to the familiar hum of business as usual below. 

Chapter fifteen

The day dawned without any hint of the things that had happened during the night. The light around the curtains appeared perhaps a little later than it had the day before but it was mere seconds, not enough to be worried about colder and darker days just yet. Anna’s back made its usual protests as she left the nursery. Her uniform, as she shrugged it on, served its usual purpose of muffling any spirit she may have felt towards the day ahead.

The day felt exactly the same as the day before, and the day before that, and the days before that.

How many days ahead would be the same? Once, after the best part of a bottle of wine, she’d tried to work out a number on the fancy scientific grey calculator of Tim’s that was kept in the third drawer down in the kitchen, along with other assorted random useful things. But she didn’t understand what half the buttons were for and she kept pushing the wrong things, coming up with nine digits numbers with lots of eights and sixes, so she gave up.

Anyway, it was useless trying to predict how many days a person had left, she remembered that in the cold sober light of the next day. It could just as easily be one as one thousand.

She’d thrown the calculator in the rubbish.

At the back door the ducks were perhaps a little more subdued than normal, but in her preoccupied state about the meeting to come – the one where she would have to observe Judy’s smug face after the announcement was made – she failed to notice. It was only as she went to relieve Mrs Dudley for breakfast that she realised something had happened.

Mrs Dudley was not there.

Anna knelt and lifted the flax fronds completely off the ground, feeling with her hand all the way underneath just to be sure. Definitely no Mrs Dudley, and no sign of the eggs either.

She got back to her feet, dusting dirt off her stockings, and set about searching the garden, a horrible feeling of doom heavy in her heart. Upon seeing the empty nest Anna had immediately assumed the worst, a night marauder in the garden, and it wasn’t long before her suspicions were confirmed. Over by the corner of the garden shed she spied a smattering of feathers, and closer inspection revealed some of the white downy ends were spotted with blood. Anna’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. Nearby lay fragments of shell, broken and jagged like some macabre fine china jigsaw puzzle.

“Oh no!” she choked out a sob, “Oh Mrs Dudley.” She covered her face with her hands and let the tears flow. The other ducks, sensing her sadness, watched solemnly from over beside the back door. When she had cried for a few minutes Anna remembered them and wiping the tears away with her fingers she did a quick head count, feeling a small, fleeting relief when she found the rest were accounted for. She shook her head at them sadly.

“What happened last night?” she asked, desperate for answers. The ducks stayed uncharacteristically silent, heads to the side, eyes fixed on her face.

“Was it a dog? Ferret? A cat?”

Still the ducks remained silent. Anna found it eerie, compared to their normal rambunctious noise. She sagged.

“You’re right, what does it matter. The end result is still the same.” She turned back to the scene of carnage. “I hope it was quick,” she said sadly, unable to bear the thought of Mrs Dudley suffering. She set about picking up the feathers, tears falling again, not bothering to wipe them away just letting them fall to the ground as she worked.

In the garden shed Anna found a small plastic container, green with coloured swirls like a paua shell. For a minute she couldn’t remember where it had come from but then a vague recollection of a pink cyclamen plant, gifted at the time of the funerals, rose to the front. She couldn’t recall who had given it to her; nor what had become of the plant.

Memories from those days were as scattered as pollen on the breeze. Days splintered into fragments; marked only by various senses. Sounds as people bustled quietly around her, swishing skirts, gentle footfalls, doors closed softly. Voices, muffled in her ears as if she were deep underwater. Various scents in her nostrils from food delivered to her door by well meaning friends and acquaintances, accepted by someone other than her and either placed in the fridge for later that day or into the chest freezer for the future. She resented those smells deeply at the time; they invaded her space and threatened to replace the normal smell of her household, the ones she was clinging to for comfort. Some of those containers were still in her freezer, white with accumulated ice, their mystery contents frozen for eternity. Anna had no interest in eating any of them, but nor could she bring herself to throw them away. People meant well. It seemed a waste to dispose of their good intentions.

Placing the feathers in the container she went back out to pick up the shell fragments, and it was then that a spot of stark white against green caught her eye. Carrying the container she walked over to the gate to investigate. The gate, she was upset to discover, was slightly ajar, and she pushed it firmly shut and nudged the latch down with an elbow, thinking sadly that it was too little too late.

Dropping her gaze to the ground she saw again the object that had attracted her attention in the first place. Nestled in the long grass was an egg. She gasped and placed the container down quickly, gently picking it up and nestling it in against her cheek. It was still warm.

Fuelled by a determination she’d not felt in a long time, Anna carried it carefully back to the house, taking care not to trip on any loose bricks in the path or over the other ducks who were still gathered near the back door. Cupping it carefully in her hands she dodged around them and made her way inside.

She had no clear plan in mind, she just knew that she had to save the egg. It was a survivor; it had shown that by surviving whatever attack had taken place the night before. Its mother and siblings had been slaughtered but by some miracle it had survived, and Anna was not about to let it die now. Not without a fight.

Right, she thought, I have to keep it warm somehow. Looking around the first thing her eyes fell on was the microwave. No, she shook her head. She didn’t want to cook the poor little thing. A bowl of hot water? No, same result probably. Oven, the fire; all the normal heating options were considered then dismissed quickly as monstrously unsuitable for her needs. In desperation Anna opened the third drawer – home of all things randomly handy – and with relief spied the hot water bottle a doting Tim had bought her years previously when she’d suffered from a sore back lugging her pregnant belly around.

Placing the egg gently in the middle of the carpet where it couldn’t roll or fall off anything, Anna pulled the bottle out and filled the jug with water, flicking the switch down to boil. As it bubbled away she bit her lower lip while the rest of a plan formulated.

Warmth. As far as she could tell that was all the egg required from the mother duck during the nesting period. With the sudden and tragic departure of Mrs Dudley’s fluffy bottom Anna knew she would have to step in and take her place. Jug boiled, she poured the water into the hot water bottle, with a smidgeon of cold to cool it down a fraction. Then she carefully wrapped it in a clean tea towel and holding the egg carefully in place on top of the bottle she wrapped a scarf around the whole lot, holding the egg snugly in place. There, she thought. That should do for now at least, and then she placed the odd bundle into the hot water cupboard for extra good measure.

It was only then reality crept back in and she realised she was not only late for work, she was
extremely
late for work. Bordering on absent. No point in going in now, Anna thought, kicking her shoes off and peeling down her muddied stockings. She made a phone call to the branch informing them she wouldn’t be in for a few days due to illness.

“What sort of illness?” Judy asked suspiciously, her tone implying she didn’t believe Anna for a second.

“The kind that causes violent bouts of diarrhoea,” Anna told her.

“I expect you to bring a medical certificate in when you return.”

“Of course.” Anna had no such intention.

Judy hung up without another word. Anna poked her tongue out at the receiver before replacing it back on its stand. “Honestly,” she sighed, “why would someone choose to live their life being so miserable and mean?”

Then it occurred to her that she herself was choosing to live her life in a fashion that some might find depressing. She shook her head; it was different.

Changed into something more casual, Anna fired up the computer, making herself a coffee while she waited. She was itching to check on the egg but knew it was best to leave it alone. So while she drank she googled orphaned duck eggs and how to look after them. It was surprising how many stories came up in her search results. Some were inspiring tales where the eggs went on to hatch. Others were not as successful, the eggs rotting and having to be disposed of.

Well not her egg. She would not let it down. The egg was vulnerable, so many dangers in the world to face, but she would be its protector. She would not fail this time.