Chapter 17
NOT THIS
The next Saturday, and the conclusion of their first week under the new system, which mostly amounted to the kids doing their homework for an hour at Zane’s with Granddad while, Finlay said, “Scarlett totally hates us being there. Not exactly fun, Mum.” Until Skylar came to collect them and took them home, that is, at which point it amounted to, “Granddad isn’t here, so it’s down to us. ”
Today, that had meant a family meeting in the morning to discuss the plan, and then cleaning house. At the moment, Finlay was hoovering, and Olive and George were dusting and emptying rubbish. Supposedly. She could hear the hoover going, at least. Until she couldn’t.
She was nearly upside-down in the bath with her scrub sponge when she heard her name called—if her name was “Mum,” which it generally seemed to be.
She extricated herself from the white porcelain and asked, “Yes?” Patch of cleanser on her gray shirt, she noticed.
It would probably bleach out the color, too.
Oh, well. It was an exercise tee, and she exercised at home.
All three kids were in the room. It made for a pretty crowded space.
It got even more crowded when Snowball trotted in, saw the water running in the bath, and leaped back as if he’d just seen Godzilla before streaking for the exit.
Snowball was a major drama queen. Meanwhile, Finlay, the spokesman, said, “I think we should change this plan.”
She wiped some sweat from her brow with the back her hand, turned off the water, and asked, “What seems to be the problem?”
“My part takes too long,” Finlay said. “Olive and George are done, and I’m only halfway through. It’s not fair.”
“I told you,” Olive said, “that I have to use the mop after you hoover. I’m waiting for you to be done with the kitchen and dining room.”
“Which is about one room,” Finlay said. “I think I should mop it—it’s steam, and steam can burn—and Olive should do half the hoovering.”
“I could do the hoovering,” George said. “I like it. It’s like riding a bucking horse. Like it’s trying to run away.”
“You’re too little,” Finlay said. “It would run away.”
Skylar gazed at Finlay in what she hoped was a penetrating manner. She succeeded, because he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “And you’ve been hoovering this entire time,” she said flatly. “While I’ve done the kitchen and bath and stripped all the beds and started the washing.”
“Almost,” he said. “I only stopped for a bit.”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll give you a choice. I’ll do the rest of the hoovering if you like.”
“Yes,” he said. “Please.”
“And you,” she went on, “can finish scrubbing the bath and cleaning the toilet and sink and floor. Also the toilet in the shed, of course.”
“I can’t do all that,” Finlay said, looking truly appalled. “I don’t know how.”
“I’d be happy to teach you. What do you think? Switch up?”
“No,” he said with a martyred sigh. “I don’t think this is fair, that’s all. Especially if we have to help put the sheets back on the beds, too.”
“And fold the washing,” Olive said. “But I like folding. I help Granddad sometimes. It’s very peaceful.”
“I told you,” Skylar said, “that I’ll help you and Olive with the sheets until you know how. After that, you two can do the kids’ beds together.” When Finlay opened his mouth again, she said, “And Granddad and I will each do our own. This is what a family is. A family works together.”
Her phone rang in her back pocket at that moment, and Finlay said, “You should probably let it go to voicemail, since we’re all meant to be working all the time.”
She’d been about to let it do just that, but instead, she pulled it out of her pocket. “Granddad,” she told the kids. “Get back to work, please. We still have the shopping to do, remember.”
“Mum,” Finlay said in a tone of anguish. “Everybody else will be down at the rugby field!”
“In the morning?” she asked.
“Well, after lunch.”
“After lunch,” she said, “we’ll be done with the shopping, and the sheets will take fifteen minutes. After which you’ll be free to go over to the rugby field, no worries.”
The phone, of course, had gone to voicemail in the meantime.
She turned her back on Finlay’s disgruntled face, rang back, and said, “Hi, Granddad. Nice time?” She tried to say it cheerily.
He had walked the younger kids to and from school all week and rung the plumber for her, and he’d done a few loads of midweek laundry, too, and hung it out, even though he’d eaten dinner and slept over with Maureen the last three nights.
That was because Zane was in Christchurch to play the Crusaders in the semifinal.
Which was tonight, and which Skylar would be watching.
She had a crush, and there was no denying it. But then, she hadn’t had a crush of any kind for so long, it seemed like it had happened to a different woman. She’d enjoy her crush. Quietly.
Wait. Granddad hadn’t answered, had he? She said, “Granddad?”
He said, “Have you been to the supermarket yet?”
“Uh … no. Not yet. We’re still cleaning here.
Something you need me to pick up for you?
” She didn’t say, “Condoms? Pregnancy test? Lube?” It was so hard not to, though.
It shouldn’t be funny that her granddad was apparently having the sex of his life—he hadn’t exactly said so, but he kept looking annoyingly smug, and every time she saw him and Maureen together, they were touching.
She was jealous of her grandfather, was what it was. Her seventy-seven-year-old grandfather. How pitiful was that?
He said, “You know I don’t like to ask it, love.”
Oh, bugger. What was coming now? “Go ahead,” she said. “Ask.” He’s been here helping you for years, she reminded herself. Time to give back.
“Maureen’s got the bot,” he said. “Flu, I think. Fever, chills, all that. I need to take her to White Cross at Ascot”—the walk-in clinic at the hospital, he meant—“but I can’t take the kids. They’d be sure to pick up something there, and then where would we be? And then there’s tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Tea for the kids, the rugby, then getting them off to bed. I can’t do all that and care for Maureen, too, not when she’s this crook.”
She would have shoved her hand into her hair, but her hand had cleanser on it. “How about her other grandkids?”
“If you remember,” he said, “the brothers are in Christchurch too.”
“Oh.” How had she forgotten that? “What about Zane’s sister?” Jade, that was her name. “Can’t she come help?” Not this, she thought. Not this, too. Unfortunately, thinking that had never made any difference.
“Got a date tonight,” Granddad said. “She could break it, I suppose, but as you’re not doing anything, I thought you could buy extra and make whatever you were going to make anyway over here instead.
The kids want to watch their dad play, and Finlay and George will enjoy that as well.
Bloke’s got the biggest TV you’ve ever seen.
Fills up an entire wall, and the sound comes from speakers.
Quite startling, really, to hear that noise from all around you.
TVs used to be in a cabinet on legs with a wee black-and-white screen, and now you’ve practically gone to the pictures, right there in your own lounge.
Oh—get popcorn, will you? The kids like that feijoa kind, Maureen says.
Get soup, too. Dunno how much she’ll eat, but she needs some salt in her.
Something good for flu. Milk, too, and bread.
Bananas. Oh, and eggs. She’s not going to be feeling better anytime soon. ”
Skylar was a helpful person. She was! So why didn’t she want to help with this? She was afraid she knew why. There she’d been, objecting to having her kids over there, and now she’d be over there? What would Zane think?
That you’re helping his grandmother. And his kids.
“Of course,” she said resignedly, “if you need me, I’ll come.
But that feijoa popcorn is—I don’t even know what it costs.
Too much, is what. Five dollars for a wee bag?
Six? Am I meant to be buying six bags? I can hardly give it to his kids and not give it to mine. ”
“Mahuta will pay you back, I’m sure,” Granddad said airily, as if all his problems were now solved. “For all of it. He’ll understand that your kids had to stay and eat too. Don’t be too long, though, will you? I’d like to get Maureen into the doctor soonest.”
Zane pulled into the drive at eleven on Sunday morning.
It was a brilliant day—sunny and fresh and crystal clear, like the weather didn’t realize it was June.
Or, of course, that the Blues had lost last night, which meant that the mood in the car was as glum as the weather wasn’t.
Gordon and Jack having a sook, or out on the razzle until the morning hours, or both.
Out on the dazzle, definitely, he realized once he’d parked and turned around. Jack was asleep back there with his mouth open, and Gordo’s head was against the window of the passenger seat. Probably drooling on Zane’s upholstery.
“Wake up,” he told them. “We’re here.”
Gordo stirred, ran a hand over his jaw, and winced. “I’ve got a head like a bag of soggy gym socks. Why do we have to do this?”
“Because Nan thinks it’s important,” Zane said. “Rattle your dags.” He pulled his duffel from the back seat. “Reminding you that your whanau’s behind you. Cooking you a roast dinner. Celebrating the season and turning the page.”
Jack said, “A roast dinner. Ugh. Can’t do it, bro.
Miso soup and toast, maybe. Ramen. I’ll tell you what.
We’ll give her a cuddle, tell her thanks, but we’re feeling crook, and take the car back to our place.
” Jack and Gordon shared a flat and a car, and the car was here, because they’d all gone to the airport in Zane’s.
Jade’s little blue subcompact was here, too. She’d already arrived, then.
“You won’t,” Zane said. “You’ll stay for time with the whanau. You’ve got weeks to lie about in warm places before you report to the Magpies.” The Hawke’s Bay Magpies, that was, their provincial rugby team.
“Cheers for reminding me that I wasn’t selected for the All Blacks,” Jack said.
“You’re twenty-one,” Zane said. “Heaps of time for that. But you won’t get there by drinking.”
“Yes, Dad,” Gordo said. “Do you ever give it a rest?”
“Not him,” Jack groused, climbing out of the car and groaning a little along the way. “He’s the skipper, you know. Must be hard, bro, turning up at ABs camp as a mere worker bee.”
“Not hard at all,” Zane said. “Glad not to have the responsibility.” It might be true and it might not, but you didn’t get anywhere by whinging. He was glad of any chance to wear that black jersey, and whenever he pulled it off for the last time, it would be too soon.
“Right, then,” Gordo said. “Put on your happy face, Jack, and let’s go see the whanau. But tell your kids not to scream this time, Zazza, will you? My head can’t take it.”
Of course, when they walked in the front door, what was the first thing they heard? High-pitched shrieks, probably from the pool, or maybe the trampoline. Surely more shrieking than three kids should have been capable of.
Upstairs to the kitchen, where Jade swiveled on a stool at the benchtop and said, “Hi. Hard luck last night, boys. Oh, Nan’s crook, and for some reason, Skylar’s here making your consolation tea instead.
One of your Speed Dates, Zane, wasn’t she?
And here you let me think you left the place without a match. Still waters, bro. Still waters.”