Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
I left the conversation to read a note that had been pushed under our front door by our – in my opinion – insane neighbours, Margaret and Peter.
Despite hanging their festive multi-coloured fairy lights every year in mid-October – too many to be counted – draped on hedges and shrubs, wrapped around their veranda balustrades, dangling from windowsills, dressing up their letter box as Frosty (adorned with white lights), and positioning five reindeer (red lights) prominently on the verge, the couple didn’t ooze Christmas spirit.
So, to the note. Margaret and Peter have tree issues. Specifically, hedge-height issues. Apparently, our conifer hedge is growing too tall and blocking their ‘right to light’.
I read in a magazine recently the top five things that aggravate neighbours. In no particular order, they are:
Pet noise and pets fouling neighbours’ gardens.
Noisy, late-night parties.
Boundary disputes.
Garden trespass.
High hedges.
Yes, high hedges.
The note requested an urgent (‘urgent’ underlined) meeting (‘meeting’ followed by several exclamation marks – four, to be precise) to resolve the aforementioned hedge concerns.
I walked back into the kitchen, crumpled up this latest communiqué, and threw it into the bin under the sink. Maybe we could have a meeting about their festering work shed, decrepit clothesline and the growing pile of bricks in the middle of the junk depot they call a backyard – an eyesore if ever there was one. The whole reason we let the conifers grow untrimmed is so we wouldn’t have to look at them or hear them and Muffy and Midget. Highland terriers, they fling themselves at our fence whenever we step outside. Woof, woof, scurry, scurry, thud – over and over again. It was amusing at first. But now? Tiresome.
‘How are you , Mum?’ I was hoping she’d forgotten about running into Dad earlier in the week.
‘Your dad and I had a lovely evening last night. Champagne, music. Just like old times.’
‘Last night? You went out with him? What old times precisely? I don’t remember them.’
‘I thought I’d be as nervous as a fly in a paint pot, but it felt so right. So easy.’
‘Okay. You’re scaring me.’ What was she thinking, having dinner with him? Was she a masochist, setting herself up for further pain and heartbreak? What was Dad playing at, anyway? We hadn’t heard from him in years and suddenly he’s hanging around, taking Mum out to dinner?
I glanced at Robyn, who was scrolling through her phone. ‘What do you have to say about this?’
She looked up. ‘Yeah, I missed him for a long time.’
I rolled my eyes .
‘What? He’s my dad. Then I got used to him not being around. It’s what men do. They impregnate you, then run off as soon as the going gets tough.’ Robyn patted her stomach.
Mum sipped her wine. ‘Dad suggested the family get-together for dinner tomorrow night.’
‘Excuse me? What family exactly?’ I asked.
‘Don’t be like that, Katie. We can eat at my house – Robyn, you, Matthew, Angus and Lexi?—’
‘Are you mad? Not in this lifetime.’
We gave up the idea of ordering pizza and agreed to cook. Soon, the three of us were standing around the kitchen island. I took assorted meats, tomatoes, capers and olives from the fridge and handed a block of cheddar to Robyn. ‘Grate this.’
As kids, Robyn and I spent whole Sundays in the kitchen making coconut ice, rocky road – always sweet, sugary treats – leaving messy trails of flour, coconut and sugar on the floor. The afternoons usually ended with one of us in tears, but it was still fun. Warm and comforting.
‘You’re going to have to see your father sooner or later,’ Mum said, as she chopped tomatoes. ‘He’s very keen to catch up.’
Robyn shrugged. ‘Sure. All fodder for Insta. I haven’t posted a food pic for a while. In fact, we could do one now. My fans would love this. The three of us in the kitchen preparing dinner together. We could get Bugs in on the action too. Chowing down on lettuce. Brilliant.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Mum replied. ‘You’ve said yourself, there are weirdos out there.’
‘No one’s out to get you, Mum. It’ll be fun. Bugs’ll love it.’ Robyn turned to me. ‘We could tie it in with your new job at Delicious Bites .’
I shook my head. ‘Let’s not bring the magazine into this.’
‘Cross-promotion.’ Robyn brightened. ‘What’s not to love?’ She paused. ‘Maybe you’re right. The less said about Graeme Grafton, the better.’
My phone pinged with a text message from Lexi:
c u soon.
That was it. It didn’t tell me much except she was alive.
Angus sidled up beside me. ‘ The Flintstones is finished.’
Robyn raised a brow. ‘Pardon?’
‘Nostalgia cartoons,’ I answered.
‘What’s for dinner?’ Angus continued. ‘Where’s Dad?’
‘At the golf club, remember? Why don’t you watch another episode and then we’ll eat.’
‘Cool. Love you, Mum.’ He vanished back to the TV.
Mum cleared her throat. ‘I wish you’d change your mind about your father, Kate.’
‘Dad abandoned us… destroyed our lives.’
‘You’re exaggerating.’
‘He left us years ago and you want to welcome him back with open arms?’
‘Water under the bridge,’ Mum replied matter-of-factly, as if it was a spilt cup of tea that could be mopped up and forgotten. ‘Life goes on.’
‘Yes, but not with him. Why his sudden interest in you, anyway?’
‘You can ask him yourself at dinner.’
‘I’d rather drink mud. You tell me. What happened to Lovely Legs?’
‘Wasn’t so lovely it turns out. They divorced?—’
‘Surprise. Surprise.’
‘Dad moved back to Sydney some months ago. Anyway, we went out for dinner, then returned to my home for a nightcap. The attention was very flattering, I must say. ’
‘Mum, don’t!’
‘Why shouldn’t I? It was like old times. He was sweet?—’
‘Please don’t say sweeter than stolen honey.’
‘But he was.’ She drew breath. ‘Don’t be such a prude, Kate. Most men my age aren’t looking my way. They’re looking at women twenty years younger.’
‘Perverts,’ Robyn chimed in.
I rubbed the back of my neck to ease the knot of tension. ‘Mum, I don’t want you to get hurt again.’
‘I’m a big girl, Kate. I can look after myself. It’s not as if I’m going to do anything silly. We were catching up, that’s all.’
Catching up? Was Mum completely missing the point? The point being Dad walked out on her without so much as a backward glance. But Mum was blind to it, locked in a fantasy world. As the universe knows, I wasn’t opposed to a spot of escapism now and then. Arnaud flashed before my eyes. I shuddered. Now wasn’t the time.
I reached for my phone and turned to Robyn. ‘Okay, how do you want to pose?’