Lessons From Ducks (19 page)

He checked his watch. “I’d better get going, still have one more lawn to do before nightfall.”

The two men walked side by side along the grass aisle towards the church. The Reverend waited until they were at the door to speak again.

“Sometimes things happen that defy understanding. Even for a man in my line of work.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I know I’m supposed to toe the party line and say that everything HE does, HE does for a reason. But occasionally even I struggle to understand.” He stared off into the middle distance, remembering something.

They heard a phone ring inside the church.

“I’d better get that. See you next time, oh and Matt, think about what I said will you. Could be a lucrative business venture.” Then he disappeared through the side door and was gone, leaving Matt staring after him and mulling over his words.

Chapter twenty five

“I’m sorry Anna,” Mr Hedley said ruefully on the phone the next morning, “but Vanessa in human resources says that once the disciplinary process has been started, it must go through the official channels to its natural conclusion. Load of codswallop if you ask me.”

Anna tucked the phone receiver under her chin so her hands were free to shoo Buddy off the couch. He glared at her reproachfully. “It’s alright sir,” she said. “I do appreciate you trying to fix things.”

“Between you and me, she mentioned that a lot of the staff are unhappy with Judy’s management. I wish I had seen this side to her before she was promoted,” his voice was frustrated. “She always seemed so dedicated.”

“Oh she’s dedicated, dedicated to making sure I’m unemployed.”

“I’m so sorry Anna.”

“It’s fine sir, really. Please don’t let it upset you. Honestly, whatever the outcome is I’ll be fine. Perhaps this is the wakeup call I needed. Let’s face it, I haven’t exactly been the banks best employee.”

Mr Hedley nobly sprang to her defence. “Nonsense Anna, you are a very diligent worker.”

If he knew how much time she spent on google researching pointless information he might think differently, Anna thought. “Thank you Sir, I appreciate you saying so.”

Anna heard Mrs Hedley mutter something in the background.

“I’d better let you go,” she said.

“Yes, ok. Seems it’s time for my medication again, horrible stuff. I will be following what happens, Anna and for what it’s worth I’ve made the board aware of my feelings. It may hold some sway.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye Anna. Take care won’t you.”

“I will, and you too.”

Anna hung up the phone and pulled the cord out of the wall. She’d had more than enough communication with the outside world for the day. As well as Mr Hedley and his heroic efforts to defend her character, she’d received a letter in the mail that morning. It came in an official looking envelope, with the words Private and Confidential stamped across the top left hand corner in blue ink. Inside was a summons to the bank, a week from tomorrow. She was to meet with the board and HR.

She would simply tell them the truth, that she’d felt like some time off and yes, she was well aware that she hadn’t followed the correct channels and yes, she knew it was hardly responsible behaviour and went against the rules of her contract. But was she sorry? She couldn’t honestly say that she was and frankly hoped the question wouldn’t arise. But she would apologise for any inconvenience and leave it to them to decide her fate. There was no point in worrying about it she’d decided. Worrying was not going to change the outcome. In the meantime she would continue to enjoy her extended holiday. She’d already replanted the vegetable garden, uprooting the lettuces that had gone to seed and sowing agria potatoes for winter. The fence and gate had looked so good with a fresh lick of paint that she’d decided to do the front porch as well; a decision she almost regretted once she started. It took her two full days and the heat nearly saw her give up several times, but she was proud once she’d finished.

She sprayed all the weeds along the garden paths and cleaned out the gutters, a job she'd been meaning to do for the last five years but always forgot about until it rained and they flooded and it sounded as if she lived under a waterfall.

Inside the house, spurred on by the satisfaction she had got from burning her uniform, she'd had a spring clean of her closet, throwing anything she hadn't worn during the last year into a plastic rubbish bag, ready to be donated to the local charity shop. She couldn’t bring herself to touch Tim’s side.

Then, with time on her hands that she felt obligated to fill, she'd set about spring cleaning the house too. She scrubbed off the cooking oil that had accumulated on the splashback, gave the walls a good wipe down with some soapy water –wondering the whole time where all the fly poo had come from and how it was she hadn't noticed it before when it was suddenly
everywhere?
- and gave the skirting boards a quick wipe for good measure. Instead of dusting around objects, as she usually preferred to do because she figured how dusty could they get underneath, really? She lifted everything off and gave the wooden shelves a thorough polish. Any ornaments - horrible things that she couldn't see the point of but which were usually gifted therefore unable to be thrown away in case the gifter should visit- she took to the kitchen and gave a good clean with soapy water, removing years of sticky grime. Books got a quick wipe down and anything else -random detritus she had collected over the years; pretty feathers, unusually coloured stones, ticket stubbs, - she threw away.

When she was finished, a job that took her three days, she stood in the middle of the room and congratulated herself. She hadn't realised how much she'd let the place go, although the fact that she hadn't got around to replacing her vacuum cleaner after it blew up a few months prior was a good indication.

‘QUACK’

She snapped out of her reverie. Buddy was weaving his way round her ankles like a puppy. A piece of paper rustled under his feet and she bent to pick it up. Scanning it, she realised it was the letter from the bank about her meeting. She had stuck it on the fridge door with a magnet that read 'life's short, drink more wine' to keep it in place but it must have come loose. Reaching for the magnet to reattach it her finger landed in something wet and sticky.

"Oh yuck," she said, seeing the now familiar splodge and realising that Buddy had used the letter as a toilet. Poetically, the bulk of it was on the third paragraph, right where Judy’s name was mentioned. She laughed.

"Nice one buddy, nice one."

‘QUACK’

Buddy thought so too, and so did Oscar when she told him about it later.

"You didn't think it was so funny when he did it to your homework," Anna pointed out.

"That's because that book didn't belong to me. It belonged to the school library and Mrs Turnip goes nuts if you damage one."

"Seriously? Your librarians name is Mrs Turnip?"

Oscar flushed. Sometimes when he was with Anna he forgot she was on the other team, i.e an adult. He found her really easy to talk to. She never talked down to him like he was just a dumb kid, the way some adults did.

"No, not exactly," he said. "That's just what we call her."

"Dare I ask why?"

"Have you ever seen a Turnip?

Anna searched her memory banks. "Yes," she said. "I have."

"Well that's pretty much exactly what she looks like."

Anna tried to reconcile the image she had in her head of a wrinkled white vegetable, with that of an aged school librarian."Is she old, this Mrs Turnip?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah about forty I think?"

Anna wasn't sure if he was joking or not. “Watch it,” she said. “Don’t you know forty is the new twenty.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone who is forty.”

“Dad says forty means your life is half over, if you’re lucky.”

“Who in their right mind would say such a thing to a child?”

“Dad says after forty, your body starts packing in on you and it’s all mid life crisis’s and dying your hair and aerobics and stuff.”

“Your father has a rather warped view on aging.”

Anna was dumbfounded. Was the man a total idiot, or just a partial one? As far as Anna was concerned, children should be sheltered as long as possible. They should live in a happy bubble of carefree days playing outside in the fresh air without a care in the world. Where the worst they had to worry about was getting the odd prickle in a foot.

Of course she knew this was being unrealistic. She knew that kids were becoming more and more exposed to things she considered, ‘adult matters’, at a very young age. One of the ladies at work had a daughter who had recently started her period. She was nine. Anna was horrified when she heard the girl’s mother casually mention it in the lunch room.

“That’s nothing,” the mother, Louise, said when she saw the look on Anna’s face. “These days, they even give them the sex talk at primary school.”

“They don’t.”

“They do. Year six, or standard four as we used to call it. Of course, you can opt for your child to sit out but their friends are just going to tell them about it anyway so what’s the point. They may as well hear the proper version from the teacher instead of some botched version in the playground.”

Anna put her sandwich down on her plate. She had lost her appetite. “I don’t believe it,” she said.

“It’s true,” Louise insisted. “She’s also put herself on a diet would you believe? At nine years old. Breaks my heart because she’s beautiful, and I’m not just saying that because I’m her mother. But you know what kids can be like. Cruel, some of them. Someone called her chubby and now she won’t let anything sugary past her lips. Spends half her time on her phone googling calorie counting apps. It’s terrible. I’m so scared she’ll end up anorexic or that other one, you know, when they chuck up their food, what’s it called?”

“Bulimia.”

“That’s the one. I watch her like a hawk when she goes to the bathroom. I shouldn’t have to do that, not at her age.”

“No,” Anna agreed, “you most definitely should not.”

“You know kids lose their virginities younger these days too, right? My son, the idiot, thought if he hid the condoms under his mattress I wouldn’t find them. Who does he think makes his bed?”

Anna searched her memory of the last staff family picnic and came up with a tall, thin, pimply adolescent with a few stray stubbles of hair on his chin and a permanent sulky expression. “Michael?” she ventured, and was rewarded with a nod. “But he can’t be more than sixteen, surely?”

“Fifteen and a half.”

“No.”

“I know, believe me, I know. After that I just couldn’t look at him as my baby anymore, not once I knew what he was up to.” She shuddered. “Of course, his father was bloody useless. Just said boys will be boys. You know, I think he was actually proud of him in a way?”

Anna murmured her disapproval.

“I had to sit Michael down and tell him that if gets someone pregnant I won’t be saving him when her father comes beating the door down, or getting up in the night to feed it. What else can I do?”

Anna shrugged sympathetically. She had nothing she could offer on the subject.

“I tell you it’s not easy,” Louise concluded, “this parenting lark. You’re lucky you don’t have –” She stopped, horrified, as her mouth caught up to her ears. “Oh Anna,” she said, “”I didn’t mean – I’m really sorry, - I can’t believe I said that.” Tears pooled in the inner corners of her right eye.

Anna watched, fascinated, wondering why the left one remained dry. Was it some kind of condition? “That’s ok,” she said. “I know what you meant.”

Conversation was stilted after that and Louise made a quick getaway back to her desk not long after, ten minutes before she was required to. Anna spent those ten minutes inside her head, thinking about how her son had never had the chance to disappoint her in such a way and how she would happily have gotten up in the night to any children he may have sired, given half the chance.

She studied Oscars bent head as he played with Buddy, laughing delightedly when the duck nibbled his fingers. His hair curled into delicate wisps at the bottom; fine tendrils that made his neck look so thin and vulnerable and she felt a strong compulsion to lean over and kiss it. She actually leant forward before Oscar, sensing something was amiss, looked up.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Anna pretended to pick up a piece of fluff off the carpet by Oscars knee as if that had been her intention all along. “Yes.”

“Are you sure? Your face has gone a bit white.”

“I’m just a little tired,” Anna got up from the floor and made her way to the kitchen to start preparing her dinner. She checked the time. “Your father is late,” she said, changing the subject.

“Yes, he said he might be. He had something to do in town I think. At the library.”

“Oh. Did he say how long he would be? I mean, should I feed you?”

“No it’s ok,” Oscar was wary of overstaying his welcome. “I’m sure dad has something planned.”

“Takeaways, you mean.”

“Probably,” Oscar admitted.

Anna made a decision. “I’ll make us a stir fry, you need some healthy vegetables. In fact, you’re probably lacking in every vitamin under the sun. I’m surprised you manage to stand upright, with the rubbish he feeds you.”

“He’s not that bad,” Oscar defended him. “I know we joke around but he’s a great dad.”

The fierce loyalty in his voice stopped Anna from her rant. “I’m sure he is,” she said. “Sorry I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

Oscar shrugged, she was forgiven. “It’s not his fault he’s not the world’s best cook. But he makes sure I have fruit for lunch every day. He does the best job he can.”

“I’m sure he does. And obviously he’s doing a great job, because you are one of the politest young men I’ve ever met. Manners are a rarity these days. Please and thank you will be on the list of endangered words if we’re not careful.”

“There’s a list of endangered words?”