Chapter 15
MONKEY WRENCH
“These little round things are weird,” George said.
“They don’t exactly look like food,” Georgia said, “but they are food, I guess, because they’re on the food.” Both kids were poking at the little green capers in extremely dubious fashion.
“Just roll them over to the edge of the plate,” Duncan said. “That’s what I’m doing.”
“We don’t talk about what we don’t like, George,” Skylar said, in what Zane could tell was her teacher voice. She wasn’t correcting his kids; she was correcting her own. Subtle.
“You’re all really picky,” Finlay said. “Heaps of kids are starving to death. Maybe they’d love these things, even though they taste a bit weird.”
“Where?” George asked. “I don’t know anybody who’s starving to death.”
Finlay sighed. “Sudan? Syria? Gaza? Hello?”
Scarlett said, “People who are starving want things like porridge, not this. I think they taste kind of good, though. They’re salty and the lemon is sour, and I like salty things and sour things. That’s probably because my tastebuds are more mature than all of yours, because I’m older.”
Finlay said, “Why do you always have to say you’re so awesome? I didn’t say that, and I like this food. You could just say, ‘Thanks, Ms. Fairburn. This dinner is delicious.’ That would be polite.”
Zane said, “Less of this chat, please. Food’s awesome, Skylar. Cheers for that. How about if we have a topic of general interest instead?”
“Rugby, you mean,” Finlay said.
“Well, no,” Zane said. “I don’t much want to talk about rugby on my days off, and I doubt it’s Olive’s favorite subject, let alone Skylar’s.”
“It’s not,” Olive said, “because it has heaps of rules, and I’m not interested in learning them.
I also don’t understand what ‘general interest’ even means.
” She wasn’t reading, because Skylar had given her a look even Zane could read when they’d sat down, and the book now resided under her chair.
“Nobody else is ever interested in the things I like. I guess that’s OK, though, because I’m not very interested in the things other people like. ”
“That’s because you’re weird,” Finlay said.
“Yes,” Olive said serenely. “I suppose it is. How do you decide what topic is interesting to talk about? Do you have a vote?”
Finlay slapped his forehead with his palm. Zane almost laughed, but controlled himself. “You could,” he said. “Or you could just ask a question and see where it goes. Pets, now. Pets are good. You have a cat, eh.”
“Yes,” Olive said. “Snowball. He’s not all that interesting, though. He’s a cat.”
“It’s interesting that he’s so naughty,” George said. “He’s always jumping up on the kitchen benchtop even though he’s not supposed to, and trying to run outside and escape. And if he’s angry at somebody, he sometimes poos in their shoes.”
“Gross,” Duncan said. “Did you ever put your foot in there by accident?”
“He did that about three times,” Finlay said. “When we first got him. He doesn’t do it now.”
“That isn’t of general interest, and it’s not dinner-table conversation,” Skylar said, before Zane could. “Pets are a good topic, though. Maybe you could think of another thing to say about Snowball that’s less disgusting.”
“Or Georgia could tell about the rats,” Duncan said. “One of them died. That’s interesting.”
“I always think dying is interesting,” Finlay said.
Scarlett sighed.
Georgia said, “I don’t want to talk about that! It was very sad, and the other rats bit her and I had to go wake up Daddy on Sunday! That was a bad thing, not an interesting thing.”
“It was pretty gross, yeh,” Duncan said. “The other rats were eating Gladys, so Dad took her out of the cage so they couldn’t. He used his hand to do it, too. His bare hand.” He looked quite pleased about it.
“You weren’t even there,” Scarlett said.
“You told me, though,” Duncan said, “so I could imagine.”
“They ate the other rat? That was their friend?” Finlay looked delighted.
“Less about the eating,” Zane said. “As we’re eating, and some people may have delicate stomachs.”
“Do you have a delicate stomach, Daddy?” Georgia asked.
“No,” Zane said. “I’m a rugby player. We’re not allowed to be delicate.”
“Oh,” she said. “What does it mean, then?”
“That people don’t want to talk about bloody dead half-eaten rats and cats pooing in shoes at the dinner table?” Scarlett said. “Honestly. You’re all barbarians.”
“Or we just don’t have delicate stomachs,” Finlay said. “If nobody has a delicate stomach, what does it matter?”
“Because it’s rude?” Scarlett asked.
Georgia said, “It was sad when Gladys died, but then it was sad in a nice way when we had the tangi,” as if that hadn’t registered.
But then, she’d been wrestling with twirling her fettuccini, which had resulted in a noodle ball about the size of an egg.
She’d tried to cram the whole thing into her mouth anyway and Zane had had to help her out, which had been a messy business and was why he hadn’t responded quickly enough to the bloody-dead-rat talk.
“You had a tangi for a rat?” Finlay asked.
“You have a tangi when you love somebody and they die,” George said, “and Gladys was a very nice rat, so people loved her. She was my favorite. She liked to run up your arm and sit on your shoulder. I only know that from when I visited Mum’s classroom, though, because we can’t have the rats at home.
Snowball would eat them. It would be interesting to see if they could run away before he got them, but Mum keeps them at school instead, so I’ve never found out. ”
“What did you do for the tangi?” Olive asked. “This is a topic of general interest, I think, because I’m interested, and I’m usually not.”
“Dad took her out of the rubbish bin,” Duncan said, “and put her in a box and dug a hole in the garden to bury her. And Georgia and I made a cross and put her name on it, and we put it on the grave after Dad covered up the box with dirt.”
“And Dad sang a waiata tangi,” Georgia put in.
She was wrestling with the broccolini now, and Zane reached over and cut it for her.
His Nan was still ignoring all of them, but then, they were his kids, and he knew how to manage a group.
Although a group of rugby players was different.
They wanted to be there, which meant they had to listen to you.
Something to consider. Maybe his leadership skills weren’t actually all that.
“I didn’t think All Blacks sang songs,” Finlay said. “That’s not very tough, singing songs.”
“It is if you’re Maori,” Scarlett said. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”
“Scarlett,” Zane said in a warning tone. She shut up, though she still looked mulish.
“It was a very sad song,” Georgia said, “because it was about being sad that somebody died. I cried, but then I felt better because Dad gave me cuddles. It’s the first time I ever knew anybody that died.”
“Well, the first time you knew a rat that died, anyway,” Duncan said.
Scarlett said, “Excuse me? Our mum died.”
“I didn’t know, though,” Georgia said, “because I was little. So Gladys was the first time.”
“Did you get to see your mum’s body?” Finlay apparently decided it would be a good idea to ask next. “I didn’t get to see my stepdad’s body, because he was in Africa, and they didn’t exactly find his dead body anyway. So I’ve never seen a dead human body.” He sounded quite disappointed about it.
“Finlay,” Skylar said. First time Zane had heard her sound sharp.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ll explain later,” she said, “why that question was completely inappropriate. Take it from me that it was.”
Huh. Skylar’s husband hadn’t been Finlay’s father, then.
Made sense. She’d have been so young when she’d had him, surely.
Twenty? Twenty-one? And the bloke had been in Africa when he died?
He was willing to bet that Skylar hadn’t been in Africa.
She’d have been holding down the fort at home instead.
You did the same thing to Sam, he reminded himself.
Then, of course, he told himself, That was different.
Was it, though? Had it been fair to have three kids that she’d raised alone half the time?
And worse—had she been rushed, that morning?
Sleep-deprived? The thought was right there, as it too often was in the low moments, the middle-of-the-night moments. Would it ever leave? Should it?
Wait. The kids. Scarlett said, “I don’t remember.” Looking closed down. “And this topic is not of general interest.”
“I’m interested,” Finlay said. “Olive’s interested too, because she said, and so is Georgia. George is probably interested too. That’s four, so that’s general.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to talk about my dead mum, then,” Scarlett said.
“Well,” Skylar said, “as we’re all finished eating, who wants pudding? I have apple crumble with custard.”
“Lovely tucker, darling,” her granddad finally decided to chime in. “Elegant, I call that.”
“Fish piccata,” Nan said. “I’ve had it with chicken, but never with fish.
The fish is even better, I think. Such a delicate flavor, with the wine and lemon juice and all.
And you’ve made pudding as well. Scarlett, why don’t you and Duncan clear the table while Skylar brings it out.
After that, we have something to discuss with all of you. ”
Why, why, why had she thought this dinner would be a good idea? And what must Zane think of her parenting? She could control an entire classroom, but not her eleven-year-old son?
Of course, he apparently couldn’t control his daughter, either. Well, how did you, short of sitting on their heads? Oil and water, that’s what those two were. They’d eat this pudding, then she’d collect her leftover food and …
Wait, there wasn’t any, because Scarlett was bringing the empty platter in now. Skylar had had a second fillet herself. She’d been hungry, fish was protein, and the piccata sauce had been lovely, whatever the kids had said. She wouldn’t think about how much butter she’d put in there.