“Has anyone ever told you that your kid has a bad attitude?” the man said, leaning against the doorframe.
Willow sucked in her breath. Now he’d done it. Her mother could put up with a lot but she wouldn’t stand for anyone saying a bad word about her only daughter. Her mother was super protective.
“Willow, go and have your bath,” her mother said without turning.
“Aw but-” Willow wanted to stay and watch the fireworks.
“Go.”
Reluctantly, Willow left. But before she disappeared completely from sight she turned and poked her tongue out at the man.
“Nice,” he said, “really mature.”
“How dare you,” Maggie hissed when they were alone again.
“How dare I what, exactly?” He was enjoying the verbal sparring. The first thing he’d noticed when she’d come to the door was that Maggie was a remarkably attractive woman. Long mahogany coloured hair reached almost to her waist which was small and nipped in nicely before curving out over her hips. Her features were delicate and refined, and she had a dimple in her chin which he found fascinating. Since she’d gotten angry with him she had become even more alive. He wanted to continue fanning the embers and see just how animated she would get.
“How dare you judge us when you don’t know the first thing about us,” she said. “It’s people like you who come into this town and bring gossip and trouble with you.”
“First of all, people like me, are the only normal things about this place. Secondly, I don’t gossip. That’s woman’s terrain.”
Maggie drew in her breath sharply and she stomped a foot.
He noted this, amused. Willow’s behaviour was making more and more sense. The apple, it seemed, hadn’t fallen very far from the tree.
“Get out,” she said. “Get out now before I call the police.”
“Hey, be my guest, I’m sure they’d be interested in checking on the kid’s welfare while they’re here.”
He’d gone too far. Willow was Maggie’s pride and joy, the only thing she considered she’d ever got perfect in her life. She was proud of being a mother, and to have this man question her parenting made her furious. She walked over to the cupboard under the stairs.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get my gun.”
He didn’t think she was serious. Not until she turned back around and he saw the gun in her hands. She’s bluffing, he thought, amused. She probably doesn’t have the first clue how to use it.
Then she cocked the rifle expertly and started loading it with ammunition.
“Whoa there, can we just back up a little?” he asked as he straightened up, holding out his hands in a gesture of peace. This was getting a little too serious. She didn’t answer him, just carried on loading the gun.
‘Look, I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said placatingly, “that wasn’t my intention.”
Again, she didn’t answer. She finished loading the gun and snapped it shut. Only then did she look back up at him.
“You still here?” she asked.
“Maggie -”
“Mrs Tanner.”
“- Mrs Tanner, I’m sorry I upset you. I wasn’t attacking your parenting skills, merely expressing my concern for the welfare of your daughter.”
“My daughter is fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. Now leave before I use this thing. It hasn’t been fired in awhile so although I may aim for your feet there’s no telling which part of you I’ll actually hit.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
He stared at her, trying to judge if she was joking or not. She seemed serious so he decided he’d better not chance it. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll leave. I don’t think you’d shoot but heck, you people are just crazy enough to prove me wrong.” He turned to go but before he’d taken a step he quickly whirled around again. “You know, you should be grateful that I took the time to make sure your daughter was ok.”
“Oh I am grateful for that. In case you’ve forgotten I even thanked you. Checking up on my daughter is not the reason I’m about to shoot you. Insulting her, me and this town, is. Now go, before I count to five. One, two, three…”
With one last studied look the man left. She heard his footsteps echo down the steps and then crunch off down the driveway. She unloaded the gun and put it back in the cupboard under the stairs.
Damn out-of-towners, she thought angrily. Coming to their little town and walking around thinking they were better than everyone else. She spied the piece of lake weed where she had dropped it on the kitchen table on her way to get the gun. Damn, she thought. It wasn’t nearly enough for what she needed it for. That man had cost her one of her biggest sellers. Now what was she going to do?
Upstairs in the bath, submerged in water up to her chin and with steam curling the corners of the pages of her book, Willow thought of her jacket now lying at the bottom of the lake and smiled happily.
Chapter three
When Willow came downstairs again, fresh, scrubbed clean and pink from her bath, she immediately noticed the black cloud, consisting of her mother’s cursed mutterings, hovering over the kitchen table. Her mother was busy at the oven, and she could smell a batch of fresh lavender soap cooking. Breakfast was on the table; fresh scrambled eggs from the hens out back, and bacon sourced from one of the farmers a few farms over.
“Has he gone?” she asked her mother.
“Yes.”
“Good,” Willow nodded. She opened the back door and gently shooed the black cloud outside. Then she went over to her mother and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist from behind.
“Sorry I didn’t get enough weed,” she said. Her mother’s soaps were legendary in these parts, and her lake weed one was the most famous of all. Bathing with her lake weed soap attracted great prosperity, and more than one person in these parts owed their successes to her and her soaps.
Her mother twisted around in her grip and embraced her, kissing her on the top of her dandelion shampoo scented head.
“It’s not your fault sweetheart. The only person to blame here is that horrible man. Who does he think he is? Questioning the way we live. As if I would ever let you do anything that put you in danger.”
Then she crouched down a little until her eyes were on the same level as Willow’s.
“All the same,” she said, “I don’t want you to go picking the weed by yourself anymore. Not because I don’t trust you to be careful, I know you are. But I would die if anything happened to you, and that, idiot, has got me a little spooked. He made it sound like you nearly drowned out there.”
Willow sighed. “I’m fine mum. You know I can hold my breath for ages.”
“I know, but still, make sure one of us is with you from now on, just to make sure you’re ok.”
“If it’ll make you feel better.”
“It will. I love you so much kid.”
“I love you too.”
“Now eat,” her mother said, gesturing towards the table. “Jugs boiling and then I’ll whip us up a couple of hot chocolates. Your grandfather is nowhere to be seen so we can even have extra marshmallows without worrying about him scoffing the whole bag. Honestly, I wonder if anyone else has to hide sweets from their father if they want them to last longer than a day.” She fetched the marshmallows from their hiding place at the back of the vegetable bin in the fridge. It was the one place Maggie could be sure her father would never look, knowing his aversion to anything green and leafy.
Willow sat down at the table and picked up the tall wooden pepper grinder.
“Where is he?” she asked, grinding pepper over the top of her eggs.
“God knows. There’s been no sign of either of them this morning.”
“I think Gran’s gone bush,” Willow said, her mouth full of delicious creamy eggs.
Her mother turned from stirring chocolate into a mug, frowning. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope, the whiskey’s gone from the
cabinet and her bed hasn’t been slept in.”
Her mother sighed. “Damn that woman. She was supposed to help me at the stall. She knows tonight is always my busiest night.”
“I can help.”
“Don’t you have homework to do?”
“What makes you think I didn’t do it already?”
“Have you?”
“Well, no. But that’s not the point. I could have. You shouldn’t make assumptions.”
“But I was right though wasn’t I. I wish you wouldn’t always leave it to the last minute Willow. Why don’t you do it Friday night and get it out of the way?”
Willow stared at her mother in horror. “Homework on a Friday night?” she said. “I can’t think of anything worse. After a week stuck up in that stinky old classroom that’s the last thing I feel like doing.”
“I could help you.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the square root of 843?”
Her mother scrunched up her nose in thought. “Um,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” said Willow. “How about this, If Train A leaves its station at 7.42am and Train B leaves its station at 7.48am and they cross paths at 8.12am how fast is Train A travelling and what colour is the drivers gumboots?”
“Fine,” her mother said, raising her hands in defeat. “Point taken. But your grandfather could probably help you, he used to be a real whizz kid at maths in his day.”
“Please don’t ever say whiz kid in front of any of my friends.”
“You make me sound square.”
“Please don’t say ‘square’, in front of any of my friends either.”
Her mother poked her tongue out at her. “Speaking of Nick, where is he? He normally arrives just in time for breakfast.”
Willow scowled at her plate.
“We’re not friends anymore.”
“Oh dear. What happened this time?”
‘I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine.” Maggie got up and started to clear the plates. She knew her daughter and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep whatever was bugging her to herself for long. Sure enough,
“He said Sally ‘Sookie’ Jameson was, pretty!” Willow spat out the last word in disbelief. “What the hell is up with that?”
Maggie smiled, but facing the sink so her daughter wouldn’t see.
“Don’t say hell,” she scolded mildly. “Is Sookie really her middle name?” she asked.
“Of course not. That’s just our nickname for her. She squeals like a pig whenever anyone sees a spider in the class. Nick used to make fun of her too, but now he says she’s pretty and he even walked her home two times last week. Noah said he saw them kissing outside her front door.”
Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. What the hell? “I guess you guys are growing up,” she finally said. “He was bound to start becoming interested in girls sooner or later. Have you, you know, -?”
Willow frowned at her.
“Have I what?”
“- become curious about boys at all?”
“Gross! Don’t be so disgusting.”
Her mother walked over and kissed Willow on the head again. “I wish I could keep you this age forever,” she said wistfully.
“Yeah well, you don’t have to worry about me getting interested in boys anytime soon. I hate them.”
They both turned at a sheepish cough from the back door that led off the kitchen.
“Morning Nick,” Maggie said.
“Morning Mrs Tanner.”
“Breakfast?”
“Only if you’ve got some going spare, thanks.” He pulled out a seat and sat down.
‘You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Willow said darkly. “Why aren’t you having breakfast at your girlfriend Sally’s house?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“You finally see sense or did she dump your ass?”
“Willow,” Maggie warned. “Stop cussing or I’ll wash your mouth out with honeysuckle soap.”
Washing with Maggie’s honeysuckle soap left your skin feeling like it been kissed by the sun and massaged by the soft feet of bumblebees. However, a useful side effect had been discovered by parents, in that if used to wash a kids mouth out it left them unable to say a cross or nasty word about anyone or anything for a few days. Willow was still smarting from the last time her mother had carried through with the threat. She’d called her fellow classmates ‘sweetie pie’ and ‘sugar cane’ for days, even the ones like Sally Jameson who she couldn’t stand. It had been a truly horrible experience and one she had no desire to repeat.
“Sorry mum.”
She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest. She watched Nick as he devoured the food Maggie had placed in front of him.
“So what happened?” she asked him again. “Did she decide you’re not good enough for her after all?”
“Something like that,” Nick mumbled. He would never tell Willow the truth, that Sally had given him an ultimatum. It was either her, she announced, or Willow.
“You can’t go out with me and still be friends with her,” Sally declared, confident that he would make the right choice.
And he had. He’d given her a two finger salute and said, “Righto, see you round then,” and walked away leaving her staring open mouthed after him. He’d pay for it, he knew. Sally would make his life a living hell for the next few weeks until a fresh victim caught her eye. But he had no regrets. Willow had been his best friend since he was six years old.
“What are you two planning on getting up to today?” Maggie asked them as she poured hot water into the sink in preparation for the breakfast dishes.
“That depends,” Nick said with a mournful look at Willow. “Am I forgiven?”
She pretended to consider it. “Ok,” she finally said. “I’ll forgive you. But only if you do my homework.”
She saw her mother’s mouth start to open in protest.
“Help me do my homework, I meant to say. Help, not do.” She grinned at her mother.
“I should think so.”
“No problem,” shrugged Nick. He’d already done his own on Friday afternoon, first thing when he got home. So he already knew the answers.
“If Nick helps me with my homework today, we can help you at the stall tonight, right?” Willow asked her mother.
“I guess so. But only if it’s ok with Nick’s mum.”
“Yeah she won’t mind,” Nick said. “Where’s Dot and Ray?”
Dot, short for Dorothy, and Ray, were Willow’s grandparents. It was their house that Willow and Maggie lived in, and had done for most of Willow’s ten and a half years.
Maggie scowled at the mention of her parents and the pan she was cleaning got a particularly vicious scrub.
“Dot’s gone bush again, and as for Ray, your guess is as good as ours,” said Willow.
“That woman acts like she’s fourteen not seventy four,” Maggie muttered. “Honestly” she turned and cupped her daughters face and traced the freckles on her nose with a finger tip, leaving a soapy bubble on the end, “if I end up as inconsiderate as her promise me you’ll lock me away in an old folk’s home or take me out back and shoot me. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Ok,” Willow agreed, rolling her eyes at Nick. It was something her mother had said to her many times.
“Right,” Maggie placed the last plate onto the dish rack, dried her hands on a tea towel and checked her watch. “You two get cracking on that homework. I’m going to head into town to set up the stall for tonight. If I don’t get there early enough I’ll miss out on the best spots.”
She took the soap out of the oven and left it on the windowsill to cool. The air in the kitchen took on the soft smell of lavender. Maggie’s creamy lavender soap ensured the user a deep and peaceful slumber filled with wondrous dreams.
When her mother had left Willow spread her books over the kitchen table and sat back, kicking a table leg idly while Nick sharpened a pencil. The scent
of the soap started to make her feel drowsy and her eyelids drooped with heaviness.
“Wake up,” Nick said, poking her with the now sharp tipped pencil.
“Ouch you idiot, that hurt.” Willow rubbed at the small black mark on her arm where Nick had stabbed her. “You could have given me lead poisoning.”
“Yeah right.”
“You never know. You’re going to feel pretty stink if I keel over and die.”
“If you do can I have your bike?”
Willow kicked him under the table.
“No. Let’s go outside,” she said. “I’m falling asleep in here.”
‘What about your homework?”
“I’ll do it later.”
“We promised your mother we’d get it done.”
“I don’t remember making any such promise.”
“Willow, she might ask and you know I can’t lie to her. She has this way of knowing when I’m not telling the truth.”
“Everyone in town knows when you’re lying. Your ears go bright red and you bite your bottom lip.”
“Aw hell, you might have mentioned this before you know. Might have saved me a bit of bother over the years.”
Outside the day had warmed up. The sun was high and fat white fluffy clouds wafted slowly across the sky. It was like something from a kids drawing, except the sun wasn’t an orange triangle with wavy lives in the corner. Dropping her school books in the grass, Willow and Nick lay flat on their backs under a big Magnolia tree and let dappled sun flicker across their skin.
“Can you believe we only have two weeks left of school?” Willow remarked, watching a fantail in the tree above scoot from branch to branch, chirping merrily all the while.
“I know, the end is in sight.”
“Then we have two whole months of freedom,” Willow said.
They both smiled in satisfaction at the thought.
From a distance they heard a car turn into the gravel road that led to Willow’s driveway and Nick lifted himself up on to his elbows to look. Through the cloud of dust kicked up by the tyres he could just make out the shape of a red VW.
“Dot’s home,” he said, laying back down again.
The car turned into the driveway without slowing, and as it bumped up the potholed drive they could hear the song ‘Ten Guitars’ wafting out the open windows, along with a chorus of accompanying female voices. The car pulled to a stop in front of the house and Willow’s grandmother climbed out of the backseat. She waved across at Willow and Nick and then went up the steps and into the house. Before she had disappeared the car was off again, rounding the top of the curved driveway where it paused briefly in front of Willow and Nick and three lined but beaming faces peered at them out of the window.
A Roast on Sunday Page 2