Chapter 11 #2
“Morning, darlings,” Maureen said serenely as they set out.
“Looks like everyone had a lovely night out. A change is as good as a rest, isn’t it?
” She was impeccable as always in a tweedy brown jacket, slim bootcut jeans, and the boots to go with them.
Granddad himself was in a collared shirt, trousers, and those polished leather shoes.
Well, it was easier to look polished when a person wasn’t focused on getting three kids ready.
Uncharitable, but there you were. Skylar was in her jeans again—they were the best thing she had, for a weekend!
—and a long-sleeved wine-red henley from Cotton On that was one of her favorites, and, she’d thought until about two minutes ago, possibly a bit sexy.
The fit was slim, the neckline was wide, and you couldn’t actually do up the snaps, but who was she kidding?
She was wearing trainers, and nothing said “devastatingly sexy and looking for a good time” like outmoded jeans and trainers. And, of course, six children.
Scarlett said, “A lovely night out? Excuse me? Putting my brother and sister to bed like Cinderella and getting woken up by Georgia having to go to the toilet, and then having her stick her freezing feet against my legs? How is this my best weekend ever?”
Georgia said, “I can’t help it if I have to go to the toilet! It was dark and I couldn’t find it, so I had to wake you up.”
“At least you didn’t wet the bed,” Scarlett said. “This time.”
Georgia gasped. “I don’t wet the bed! I don’t!”
“Pardon me?” Scarlett said.
“Not any more, I don’t,” Georgia said. “I was little then!”
“It was Christmas,” Scarlett said.
“I wasn’t in Year One then,” Georgia insisted. “That’s different.” She glanced anxiously at Skylar, who said, “It happens to everyone, no worries,” and then shut her mouth.
“I’ll bet it happened to you too, Scarlett,” Finlay said, because of course he did.
“But nobody remembers because they were too little, and your dad and your Nan won’t say because they don’t want to embarrass you.
Maybe they should embarrass you. You’re trying to embarrass Georgia, aren’t you? What’s the difference?”
“Pardon me,” Scarlett said again, icily this time. “I don’t remember asking you.”
“That’s enough, Finlay,” Skylar said. “In fact, I’d say this topic has worn out its welcome. What would you have been doing if you hadn’t come to watch your dad, Scarlett? I thought it was fun to watch him, but no?”
“Of course I like to watch him,” Scarlett said, still flushed and shooting a murderous glance at Finlay.
“He’s my dad. I could’ve spent the night at Hazel’s house, though, and had some actual peace and quiet while I watched.
She’s an only child, and she has a canopy bed and a matching daybed and her own TV and laptop and mobile.
Of course, everybody my age has a mobile.
Everybody but me. But no. Here I am, helping kids into their PJs and out of them again like I’m the nanny. ”
Duncan said, “You didn’t have to help me into my PJs.
You never have to help me get dressed, and I wouldn’t let you anyway, because I’m a boy.
You told me to brush my teeth and wash my face, too, as if I didn’t already know that, just to be bossy.
All I did was sleep in the bed next to you, because I didn’t have a choice, and you act like you’re the boss of me! ”
Finlay said, “She’s cross heaps. I noticed that already.”
Scarlett said, “I’m not cross. I’m just—”
“Bossy,” Finlay said, and Duncan said, “Yeh. You are, Scarlett. You’re dead bossy. Like you want to be our mum or something, but then you say you don’t want to be our mum.”
“She’s probably confused,” Finlay said. “By her role.”
“Café,” Zane announced, no doubt with great relief.
Scarlett said, as they were entering the café, “I am not bossy! I have excellent leadership skills. Ms. Fairburn said so!”
“I did,” Skylar said.
“I’m sorry you were disappointed, Scarlett,” Maureen said, still sounding maddeningly serene—Skylar would’ve been narky about that too—“but you did tell me you could manage, you know.”
Zane said, “Menus. Here. Let’s sit.” The café was crowded on this Sunday morning, but somehow, there were three tables pushed together on one side, and that was where Zane headed.
“They say ‘Reserved,’” Skylar said. “Unfortunately. Where do ten people go to eat breakfast? I should’ve thought of that. Maybe we could—”
“No worries,” Zane said. “I booked. Seemed wise. You could sit by me, if you like.” He stood behind the chair at the head of the table as if he couldn’t imagine sitting anywhere else.
“Put Scarlett and your son down by my Nan and your Granddad, why don’t you, for their sins.
We’ll let them deal with it. Besides, it could be funny to watch the sparks fly from afar. What’s your boy’s name?”
“Oh,” she realized in confusion. When hadn’t she been confused around him?
And he thought it was funny to watch kids fight?
Not her idea of a good time. But then, he played on a team with his brothers, and that might be the dynamic he was used to.
“I never introduced you. That’s Finlay. Finlay, this is Zane. Ah … Mr. Mahuta.”
Zane had a smile lurking somewhere just shy of his mouth. “I’m not going to know who he’s talking to if he calls me that. I don’t think anybody’s ever called me that, and I’m including the sponsors. Definitely the sponsors.”
“If your kids have to call Mum ‘Ms. Fairburn,’” Finlay said, “it’s fair that I call you that.” He offered his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Zane raised an eyebrow and shook the hand.
“Likewise. We’ll put the littlies by your mum and me, how’s that, and the rest of you can arrange yourselves however you like.
” Maureen and Geoffrey, in fact, had already sat at the opposite end of the table and were not exactly signaling, “Ready to take on child-minding duties!”
Skylar was just thinking that when Zane said, “Only fair that they get a day off, I reckon.” He smiled at Olive, then. Yes, an actual smile. “Hi. Good book?”
She looked up, kept her finger in her book, and blinked. “Yes. It’s the fourth book in the Inheritance series, and I really want to find out how it ends. It’s about magic, and there are dragons.”
“Ah,” Zane said. “A bit like Harry Potter, maybe.”
“Yes,” she said in a considering tone, “but different. There’s more violence, and I don’t like that so much, but I like action. And dragons. Especially getting to ride a dragon. Especially a dragon that can read your thoughts. That would feel so cozy, like a friend you always had in your head.”
“It’s a pretty good-sized book,” Zane said. “How old are you?”
“Eight,” Olive said. “I don’t like kids’ books as much. They don’t feel real. This isn’t real, of course, because it’s imaginary, but it feels more real anyway. I want to read The Lord of the Rings next. Everybody keeps saying this copies off those books, so I want to read them for myself.”
“A woman to be reckoned with, then,” Zane said. “What’s your name?”
“Olive,” she said. “What’s yours?”
“Olive,” Skylar said. “You know his name. You watched him play last night, and we just discussed his name. He’s Zane Mahuta. Mr. Mahuta. From the Blues rugby team. He’s the other kids’ dad, remember?” Wait. Had she explained that to the kids? Surely she had. Of course she had!
“Oh.” Olive blinked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t watch very much, and you probably look different with your clothes on.”
Zane’s mouth twitched. To his credit, though, he didn’t laugh. He said, “I probably do. And you,” he said to George, “I know, because Georgia told me. You’re George.”
“Yes,” George said, sticking out his hand in the way Olive should have done. “We have almost the same name, but it’s not quite the same, because hers is different at the end.”
“Because she’s a girl,” Zane said. “Girls’ names do that sometimes.”
“Oh.” George considered. “I never heard of that before. May I sit beside Georgia, please, Mum? She knows about rats.”
“Absolutely,” Skylar said. George couldn’t sit beside Skylar anyway, because Olive had pulled out the chair beside hers and was reading again.
So, no, it wasn’t exactly like drinking wine with Zane in the night.
It was like being taken on the world’s most confusing, most expensive, and least conversational date, was what it was.
That was because Zane somehow ended up paying for all their breakfasts, a fact she didn’t realize until it had already happened.
The first she knew of it was when they all stood up to leave, and she said, “Cheers for that, Granddad, though I’m feeling guilty about my duck salad. It said twenty-nine dollars right there on the menu, and somehow I ordered it anyway.”
“Don’t thank me,” Granddad said cheerily. “Zane here was tapping his card against the screen before I could even pull my wallet from my trouser pocket. I’d have fought him for it, but it wouldn’t have ended well.”
Oh. My. God. How much had those five meals cost Zane?
Her granddad had had the lamb belly! Almost forty dollars right there, and how much in all?
Coffees, hot chocolates … It had to have been …
she added up hastily. A hundred fifty dollars at least. She knew she was turning red.
Embarrassment, anger … she couldn’t even have said.
She told Zane, “I’m so sorry. This was meant to be …
” She looked daggers at her granddad, walking out with Maureen as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Whatever it was meant to be, it certainly wasn’t meant to be a charge on you.
Ever. Please tell me Granddad paid for the tickets last night. Please tell me that.”
“Don’t remember,” Zane said, which was all the answer she needed. She wanted to sink through the floor.