“Well methinks the bar lady should keep her opinions to herself and pour the customer another drink. Something stronger this time.”
“Wine?”
“Stronger.”
“Coming right up ma’am,” Harper saluted, grabbing a glass from below the counter and the whiskey bottle off the shelf behind her. She poured one shot into it.
“Don’t be stingy,” Maggie said, “and don’t call me ma’am.”
“You’re not normally a big day drinker,” observed Wade.
“Yeah, well nothing about the last two days seems normal, so there.”
Sometime later, after plenty of chatter and laughing and three games of darts with some of the other patrons, all of which she lost, she checked her watch and realised that she’d better be getting home. The sun had started to sink lower in the sky which meant Willow would be making her way home, fish or no fish. She would stay out all night if she could; “the fish always bite better in the dark,” she’d protested once before when Maggie had been forced to go and fetch her back home.
“Thanks for listening,” she said to Harper, stepping up onto the foot rest that ran around the bar and leaning over the bar to kiss her friend on the cheek, to catcalls and whistles from some of the local men.
“Anytime my sweet, you know where I am. Give that gorgeous little girl of yours a big kiss from Aunty Harper.”
“I’ll try. Sadly she’s not big on the soppy stuff anymore.”
Maggie drove home in a much better mood than when she had left. She wound down the window, enjoying the intoxicating mix of smells the world offered at sunset. They swirled throughout her car and tugged at her hair. She felt refreshed and invigorated, as a few hours with a best friend can do for you.
Pulling into her driveway and getting out of the car, she hesitated; she was reluctant to leave the beauty of the outside world for the confinement of wooden walls and electric lighting. So she wandered over to the big Magnolia tree beside the wire fence that framed the driveway. Next to it stretched acres and acres of empty paddocks, the couple nearest belonging to them but the ones after that belonging to the farmer next door. A ridge in the distance broke the endless fields, and although the sun had sunk behind it, it had only just gone, and its colours were still smeared across the sky like a messy child’s painting.
Standing near the fence she stretched, like a cat after a nap, arching her back and extending her arms above her head to the sky. She sucked the fresh air deep inside her body and then exhaled in one long breath.
Life, she thought, doesn’t get any more beautiful than this. There was nothing like a sunset to remind you look up and marvel at the great big world around you. Stars were starting to twinkle in the dusky sky.
Reluctantly accepting that she couldn’t stay out here forever, she turned to go inside the house but then she saw the tyre swing her father had hung from the tree a long time ago, when she was about Willow’s age. The ropes had been worn into the branch from relentless swinging, and the tyre itself had been replaced at least twice after the rubber, exposed to the elements, had become flimsy and cracked. She felt a childish urge come over her and succumbing to it, she climbed onto the swing, wrapping her arms around the ropes and her legs around the tire. Pushing off the ground over and over until she had a good swing going, she leant back and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind in her hair; whistling softly past her ears.
She was just starting to wind slowly to a stop when she felt strong hands on her back, pushing her gently off again. She smiled.
“Thanks,” she said, thinking it was her father and wondering how many times his hands had pushed her on this same swing over the years.
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyes flew open and she tried to stop the swing, overbalancing and falling off so she landed on her backside in the grass.
“You ok?” Jack reached out a hand to help pull her up.
Ignoring it, she got up and wiped grass off her jeans. “What the hell is wrong with you, sneaking up on me like that?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you would have heard me. You were lost in your own little world though, I think.”
“What are you still doing here?” she demanded, “you should be long gone by now.” She looked past him. “And where is your car? Did you hide it or something?” Her tone was accusatory.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I did. I hid my car behind a hedge so that I could lull you into a false sense of security, thinking that I was gone, but then BAM!” He smacked one fist into the other hand. “When you walked through the front door, there I would be, sitting at the dining table as plain as day and, according to you, up to no good.”
“Ha ha, funny guy. That still doesn’t explain where your car is.”
“It’s in the shed. Your father’s bike wouldn’t start so I had to jump start it.”
“Oh great, what have you done to his bike?”
“I didn’t do anything, it was like that when I got here, I swear.”
“You must have done something.”
“I hardly touched the thing. I don’t have the first clue about the inner workings of anything mechanical.”
“No, only animals from what I hear.”
A smile spread across his face. “Why Maggie Tanner, have you been doing a little asking around town about me? I’m flattered.”
She flushed, grateful it was dark enough for him not to notice.
“Don’t be,” she said. “I was devastated when I found out you’re here for good.”
“Ouch.” He put a hand over his heart and shook his head sadly. Then his expression turned serious. “You really don’t like me do you?” he asked.
Maggie shrugged and headed past him towards the house. “So far you haven’t given me a whole lot to like.”
“I know we got off on the wrong foot but I’ve apologized for that, more than once. I don’t know what else I’ve done to upset you but I’d love to know so I can try and fix it.”
Maggie paused, turning to him. “Why?” she asked. “Why do you care so much what I think about you?”
She was unnerved with the look he gave her when she asked this. All traces of his trademark humour and cheekiness were gone from his face. Without this armour he looked, vulnerable. She wasn’t sure whether to trust it or whether it was just another trick he’d pulled from his arsenal.
“Well?” she asked.
“I like you,” he said. When he saw her expression he hastily added, “Not like that. Just, you know, as a potential friend. Possibly. One day.”
She regarded him sceptically.
“I haven’t met many people since I’ve moved here that interest me in the way you and your family do,” he carried on. “I find your parents charming and as for your daughter, well. Let’s just say she’s brightened up both of the days I’ve seen her.”
“If you’re having a go at my daughter again -”
“I’m not. I promise. She’s a complete delight.”
Maggie scanned his face. He features appeared genuine, but there was something else there also, something written across his face that made him seem a little lost. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Thank you,” she said. “As you’ve probably realised, Willow is everything to me. I’m sorry if I’ve been a little prickly. I’ve been known to be slightly, overprotective, when it comes to my daughter.”
A small smile tugged at his lips but disappeared again before she could be sure.
“Did you just smirk?” she asked.
“Of course not, it must have been a trick of the light.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
He stepped closer until he was within a step of her again, as he had been earlier in the day. The smell of him did something crazy to her breathing, making it shallow and raspy. She held it so he wouldn’t hear, but she refused to take a step backwards.
“I promise you Maggie,” he said in a low voice, “you have nothing to worry about.
My intentions are pure.”
“That’s good to hear.”
‘Truce?”
“Alright, truce.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that moonlight suits you,” he whispered.
The intensity of the moment had almost robbed her of her voice but she managed to rescue a tiny spark.
“Why,” she replied, “because it hides all my flaws?”
He chuckled, and then reached up a hand to softly brush a tendril of hair away from her face.
“No. Because it makes your skin and your eyes illuminated as if lit by a blue flame from within.” he said. “And your lips shine as if crafted from the finest silver.”
“Ahem,” a voice coughed behind them and broke the spell. They both turned to see the silhouette of Dot standing in the open door. Maggie hurriedly took a step back from Jack.
“Hi mum,” she said. “Is Willow home?”
“She’s here,” Dot answered. “Showered and tired but full to the brim with stories of how she landed her monster fish.”
“I can’t wait to hear them,” Maggie’s voice came out high pitched. She coughed to clear her throat.
“So are you two are planning on coming inside tonight?”
Maggie ignored this and pushed past her mother to get inside the house. Jack followed. The heat that emanated from them left scorch marks on the door frame as they passed, and a tiny spark leapt from Jack and singed Dot’s hair.
“Ouch,” she said, rubbing the spot. Her eyes followed them as they headed into the kitchen.
“Oh yes,” she nodded to herself. “It’s definitely obvious what’s going to happen there.”
Chapter nine
“What was that noise?” Ray looked around, confused. “Did someone let a cat in?”
“It was his stomach,” Willow pointed at Jack with a fork.
“Don’t point with your cutlery,” said Maggie. “It’s rude.”
‘Sorry,” Jack looked sheepish. “It’s just that it’s been awhile since I’ve sat down to a meal so spectacular.” He scanned the table eagerly, not sure where to start and keen to dive in but holding back out of politeness.
Dot had been busy in the kitchen for most of the afternoon. The lamb had been slow roasting for the past four hours, with sprigs of fresh picked rosemary from the bush underneath the kitchen window, and cloves of garlic poked deep into the flesh of the meat. It was brown and crispy on the outside, and as Ray carved it Jack could see that it was succulent and juicy on the inside. In the last hour at various times she’d added potatoes, carrots, yams, onions and parsnips to the pan, turning them occasionally and basting them with the fat from the lamb. The potatoes were the main thing catching Jack’s eye and causing his stomach to growl hungrily. They looked crunchy and he just knew that when he bit into them the insides would be fluffy and perfect.
On a long platter in the middle lay the fish that Willow had caught that afternoon. It had been smoked until the flesh had turned golden. Now, the skin had been peeled back to reveal the delicate and juicy white meat.
There was also a bowl of baby peas, some corn on the cob, a plate with some fresh bread buns piled high and a blue pottery jug filled to almost overflowing with homemade gravy. Dot had also picked some bluebells that grew wild along the back fence and put them in a pretty crystal vase with some water. Their sweet, delicate scent spoke of summer days.
Jack’s stomach growled again, and this time everyone heard it.
“Christ,” said Ray, “you’d better hurry up and feed that man, Dot. Sounds like a famished bear that hasn’t eaten all winter.”
Dot surveyed the table, making sure she had everything. “Salt and Pepper.” She fetched the tall grinders from the pantry, placing them in the centre of the table. “Right that’s it, dig in.”
Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed tongs and serving spoons and he ladled and grabbed until there was no inch of his plate that wasn’t covered in food. Only then did he sit back, ready to eat, and noticed the others all watching him in fascination.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Dot snapped out of it and frowned at the others. “Stop staring at our guest,” she said. “It’s wonderfully refrshing to see a man with such a healthy appetite.”
For awhile there was no noise but the sound of jaws chewing, but after a few minutes Willow remembered she hadn’t told her mum the story of how she’d caught the fish and she started to relay it with gusto, hands gestures included.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Ray with his mouth full.
Willow rolled her eyes, but swallowed exaggeratedly and carried on with the story. Maggie listened indulgently, her eyes following the animation on her daughters face. She felt a surge of love for her daughter. Ever since she had been a newborn baby in her arms Maggie had considered Willow to be her finest achievement in life. It was the simplest moments like these, with her daughter and her family around her, that reminded her just how wonderful life could be. It didn’t matter if they weren’t rich. They had each other, and they had love.
She didn’t realise that the love she was feeling inside was clearly visible on the outside, in the intensity of her eyes, the flush on her skin and the way she bit one corner of her lip lightly until it turned the colour of ripe plums.
Jack watched, captivated, and failed to hear when Ray asked him a question. Dot and Ray could see why and exchanged smug smiles. Willow noticed.
“What?” she said. “What are you guys smiling about?”
“Nothing, eat your peas.”
“No, I don’t like them.”
“Since when?”
“Since you guys started getting all secretive. If you want me to eat my vegetables then tell me what’s so secret all of a sudden.”
Maggie sighed. “No one is keeping any secrets from you, baby,” she said, hating the lie even as she spoke it. Dot’s eyebrows shot up but she kept quiet. It wasn’t her place. The air around the table had suddenly become thick and grey with tension.
Jack was puzzled. He knew he had missed something but whatever it was had gone right over his head. He pushed his now empty plate away and sat back, groaning theatrically.
“That was some feast,” he said. “That should carry me through for a few days at least. Thank you,” he smiled at Dot. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a meal more.”
“You’re very welcome,” she said.
“You should be thanking me for the fish,” pointed out Willow.
“Of course. Thank you, Willow, for catching such a monstrously delicious fish.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. Then she added grudgingly, “Thank you for helping us smoke it.”
“And who should I be thanking for the impressive piece of lamb? You, Ray?”
The silence that followed this innocuous question was immediate and hollow. He glanced from face to face. Maggie’s eyes seemed to be shooting a message or warning of some sort his way, but without knowing what he had done he was powerless to prevent himself from doing it again. He frowned at her, trying to convey that he was clueless as to what he’d done wrong. The only one who seemed unperturbed was Willow.
“My dad gave it to us,” she answered him, mopping up the last of the gravy off her plate with a bread roll, unaware of the volley of loaded stares that were shooting around the table over her head.
Ah, Jack thought. I’ve wandered into some kind of sensitive territory here. He knew from asking around town that Maggie’s husband Jon had left her a few years back. No one seemed to know why or where he had gone, but that part was of little interest to Jack anyway. The only thing he’d cared about was that she was single. So when she had lied to him at the market and said she was married he was thrown, but figured it was simply a ploy to get him to leave her alone. Now though, he knew there was something more going on here.
“Does he live around these parts?” he asked casually.
“Yep. Well, sort of,” Willow answered.
Maggie and Dot both leapt up from the table, gathering plates and bowls and clanging them together noisily in an effort to put an end to any more conversation. Maggie came around the table and on the pretence of leaning over him to grab his plate she took the opportunity to hiss in Jack’s ear.
“Shut up,” she said.
Jack pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Do you see him often?” he directed this question at Willow.
“Nope.”
“So only on holidays and special occasions?”
“Nope.”
“Wait, surely you must see him sometimes?”
“No, never,” she confirmed. She seemed unaffected by this startling declaration.
Maggie leant over Jacks shoulder again, this time elbowing him in his side sharply as she hissed louder. “I told you to shut up.”
Jack ducked out of reach of her elbow. “What do you mean, never?”
Willow finally looked up at him. “I mean never. And if you don’t know the meaning of the word, look it up in a dictionary or go back to school. What’s with all the questions anyway?”
“Sorry I’m just a little confused. I thought you said he gave you this meat.”
“Yeah he did, and?”
Jack looked at the other adults. “Am I missing something?”
“Can I take the fatty scraps out to Rufus?” Willow asked.
‘Sure honey,” Dot scraped them all on to one plate and passed it to her. Maggie waited till she was out the door before she turned on Jack.
“Our family affairs are none of your business,” she told him fiercely. She looked at the clock hanging on the wall over the sink. It was barely eight o’clock but she wanted him gone. Now.
“It’s late,” she said. “I’m sure you need to get going.”
“But there’s still dessert –” Dot protested. She had made a blackberry and apple crumble and fresh custard.
“Hmm, that sounds –”
“I think Jack has had enough to eat for one night, mother. We don’t want to make him ill from dining on too much good food do we?” Her tone implied that she wished him very ill indeed.
“There’s always room for –”
A Roast on Sunday Page 7