A Roast on Sunday

by Robinson, Tammy

  “I’m sure Jack mentioned he has an early start tomorrow. And I need to make sure Willow’s things are ready for school.”

  “But –”

  Maggie yawned, exaggeratedly. “I’ll see you out,” she glared at Jack.

  He registered the angry glint in her eye and decided he’d better not push things any further. This town was home for the foreseeable future, and there would be plenty of time later to unravel the mystery. He pushed back his chair.

  “Lift it, don’t scrape it,” said Ray.

  “Thank you,” Jack said to Dot, “for such a wonderful day. I’ve enjoyed both meals immensely, and I hope I haven’t overstayed my welcome so much that I won’t be invited back again.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Maggie muttered.

  Dot embraced Jack. “Don’t be silly. “We’ve loved having you around, haven’t we Ray?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll see if I can find anything out about your model of bike,” Jack said. “Do a little research on the computer.”

  “Or he could just do what normal people do and take it to a mechanic,” Willow came back inside with a plate that looked suspiciously like it had been licked clean.

  “And pay through the nose for them to spend hours fixing it when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself? Not likely.”

  Dot sighed. “You aren’t capable, that’s the whole point.”

  “Blasphemy. You shouldn’t insult a man’s skills like that.”

  Dot rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  Jack smiled; he was starting to see a pattern here. Then he saw Maggie’s face and stopped smiling.

  “Er, right,” he said. “I’d best get going. Early start and all that. Night all.”

  “I’ll come out and lock up the shed after you,” Maggie said.

  Once they had left the room Ray winked at Dot, who nodded.

  “What’s up with that?” asked Willow.

  “What’s up with what?”

  “The secret signals you guys keep giving each other.”

  Ray reached over and ruffled Willow’s hair.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about kid.”

  “Get off,” she said, pushing her chair back.

  “Lift it, don’t scrape it.”

  “You guys think you’re so clever but you wait, I’ll find out what’s going on,” muttered Willow, heading off to her bedroom.

  Outside, Maggie waited until they were almost at the shed before she rounded on Jack, jabbing at his chest with a finger.

  “Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at,” she demanded furiously.

  “Whoa,” he took a step back and held up his hands defensively. “I thought we’d declared a truce.” He whistled for Rufus who came bounding from the warm spot he’d been occupying on the front porch.

  “That was before you started sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “I was just being polite.”

  “No, you were being nosy.”

  “Alright, so what if I was?”

  “Aha, you admit it then.”

  “Well how else am I supposed to find out anything about you? You’re not exactly forthcoming with any details.”

  “But that’s just it; you don’t need to know anything about me. We’re not friends, and with the ay you’re carrying on we’re unlikely ever to be.”

  They reached the garage and she felt for the light switch on the wall, flicking it down into the on position.

  “You really don’t hold anything back, do you?” he mused. “You just say whatever’s on your mind.”

  “No and I don’t see why I should. Honesty up front is the only way to be. It’s the only way to be sure no one will end up getting hurt.”

  As she said the last part he saw her eyes darken, and she sighed ever so softly. She seemed to have left him momentarily, her mind searching back in on itself, reliving some memory.

  “Who hurt you?” he asked gently, his fingers itchy at his side with the longing to reach out and comfort her. It took all his willpower to stop them.

  She snapped back into focus and shook her head, banishing whatever memory it was that had assailed her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She folded her arms in front of her body defensively to create a barrier between them.

  “I really need to go and help Willow get ready for school tomorrow,” she said.

  “Of course,” he smiled in an effort to lighten the mood. If there was one thing he was learning, it was that Maggie would not be pushed. He would have to be patient, something that was unfortunately not his strong suit.

  He got into his car and started the engine then he wound down the window. “Maybe we could meet up sometime this week? Grab a coffee or a bite to eat?”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty busy at the moment, with the lead up to Christmas and everything that comes with it.”

  “I understand,” he said. “But if you change your mind or get some free time, call me. I left my number with your mother.”

  She murmured noncommittally, wanting him to leave.

  He left, driving slowly off down the driveway, his eyes in the rear view mirror watching as she closed the garage doors and headed back towards the house.

  She intrigued him; to the point where he had spent hours last night lying awake in his bed, watching the crack around the curtain become lighter and lighter, thinking about her. He would just have to bide his time

  Chapter ten

  “You’re being paranoid.”

  “I am not. There’s something going on that they’re not telling me, I’m sure of it.”

  “Like what?”

  “That I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

  Willow lay on her side next to the creek and dangled her fingers in the cool water. The sun was warm on her back, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before they would be swimming in the creek every chance they could get, but for now the water was still a touch icy from the water coming down off the hills.

  Nick sat beside her with his fishing hand line dangling down into the water. Beside him a small blue plastic bucket writhed with the worms they had dug up on the way to the creek after school. The second the three o’clock bell had chimed they’d been out the door before the teacher had even finished speaking. They walked the long way to the creek which took them through a part of town where pretty little gardens bordered by tidy little hedges were well maintained by proud elderly. They’d discovered the best worms in town came from these gardens; fat and complacent from dining on the finest compost. The trick was digging out the worms without anyone noticing, and usually one would kick at the dirt while the other kept watch for twitching curtains that signalled they’d been spotted by someone inside.

  Every now and then a trout would break the surface causing ripples, but so far they were resisting his bait, despite the particularly fat worm he had on the end of his line at the moment.

  “All I know,” Willow continued, “is that it started around the time Jack came on the scene.”

  “You think it has something to do with him?”

  “Duh that’s what I just said.”

  “Duh yourself. Do you like him? What’s he like?”

  Willow shrugged her shoulders. “He’s ok I guess. He helped granddad and I smoke the fish yesterday, stripped some bark off the Manuka tree to put in which gave it a nice flavour.”

  “You think he and your mum might –?”

  She waited for him to finish the sentence but he didn’t. She rolled over and looked up at him quizzically. “Might what?”

  “You know, start dating.”

  “Eww, no way. Mum’s not interested in dating, she told me. Anyway, even if she was it wouldn’t be with him. She can’t stand him.”

  Nick didn’t say anything, but she could tell from the way he raised his eyebrows that he had something to say that he was holding back.

  “What?” she asked.

  “N
othing.”

  “Bullshit nothing. I can tell you got something on your mind so spit it out.”

  “You promise you won’t hit me?”

  “How can I promise when I don’t know what you’re going to say? You might say something that makes me want to hit you.”

  “Then I’m not saying nothing.”

  “You can’t not say it now,” she said stroppily, “you got me all curious.”

  “Promise.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “I promise.” But she crossed her fingers behind her back as she said it.

  “Say it again without crossing your fingers.”

  Her mouth fell open. “How did you -?”

  “Willow, I’ve known you since you were six years old. I know when you’re bullshitting me.”

  She flounced back down on to her back and closed her eyes.

  “I don’t care anymore anyway,” she said.

  “Yes you do.”

  “Fine. I do. So just say it already.”

  “Your mum is still only young, as far as old people go. And,” he shuffled away from Willow on the grass, “she’s really, really, pretty.”

  Willow lashed out at him.

  “Don’t you dare talk about my mum like that!”

  “I’m only saying what all the boys say. Out of all the mum’s at school, yours is by far the prettiest and the only one any of us would consider kissing.”

  “You guys are disgusting. I can’t believe you talk about my mum like that!”

  Nick shrugged. “We’re boys,” he said. “It’s what we do.”

  “Well boys are idiots.”

  “No one’s arguing with you there.”

  Willow stewed silently. The only sounds were birds chirping in the trees and a gentle breeze causing leaves on the weeping willow above the bank to rustle.

  “What’s that got to do with anything anyway?” Willow finally asked.

  “I just think you need to open your eyes is all. Your mum can’t stay single forever, she deserves a little happiness.” He didn’t mention that he was quoting this last bit directly from something he’d heard his mother say to his father not long ago.

  “I’ve never stopped her from seeing anyone.”

  “Well, you have kind of. But not on purpose”

  “I have not.”

  Nick pulled his line out of the water and sighed when he saw the hook was empty. He fished around in the bucket for the next fattest worm. “Have you asked her what’s up with your dad lately?”

  Willow rolled back towards him and cupped her face in her hands, resting on her elbows. “You know I haven’t. You think that’s why she doesn’t date anyone? She’s waiting for him to come back?”

  “No I don’t think that’s it. But maybe she thinks you are waiting for him to come back.”

  Willow frowned at him. “I stopped waiting for that to happen years ago.”

  “But have you told your mum that?”

  “Of course not. She’s still keeping up this ridiculous pretence with the meat each Sunday.”

  “Yeah, that has kind of gone on for a bit long now.”

  “Exactly. At first I knew she was doing it to make me feel better, so I went along with it. And now I can’t exactly admit that I know what she’s been up to all these years, can I?”

  Nick drew an arm back and threw the hook and worm out into the water. It landed with a plop then sank slowly.

  “I guess not,” he said.

  Willow sighed and reached out to pick a handful of daisies. She started piercing holes in the stems with a fingernail and threading them through each other to make a daisy chain.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s all too bloody complicated.”

  Chapter eleven

  A week and later Maggie could no longer ignore it.

  It started when she drove through Main Street on the way to the supermarket and saw council workers hanging strings of coloured fairy lights in the big Angel Oak, on top of the ones that were still hanging in there from the night of the market.

  “Surely not,” she said to herself.

  Then at the supermarket, near the checkouts, she saw displays of chocolate advent calendars, marked down to clear.

  “It’s a bit early isn’t it?” she muttered. “And why are they reduced?”

  Then, back at home, as she was unpacking the groceries in the kitchen she turned on the stereo for a bit of background noise and the unmistakable opening notes of men singing stopped her in her tracks.

  “No, it can’t be,” she said, her face ashen.

  But it was.

  “Turn it up!” said Dot. ‘”I love this song.” Then she danced around the lounge room singing along to Snoopy’s Christmas. “Christmas bells, those Christmas bells, ringing through the land –”

  Maggie watched her mother twirling for a minute, and then she crossed to the fridge and studied the calendar.

  “No,” she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again but the fact remained the same. There were only just under three weeks left till Christmas.

  “Where did the time go? How can it be upon us again already? So soon?” she asked no one in particular, as she sank into a kitchen chair and dropped her head into her hands. The song finished and her mother turned the stereo down and wandered into the kitchen. She flicked the switch down to boil the jug.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she told her daughter. “This is the most joyous time of the year.”

  “Yes I’m aware you feel that way mother. You say the same thing every year.”

  “And every year you grumble and groan and act like the Grinch who got nothing but a potato in his stocking.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do too.”

  “Whatever.”

  Dot put two teabags in mugs and poured hot water over them. While they soaked she regarded her daughter, who had started flicking through one of the many brochures advertising potential gifts that got stuffed into their mailbox this time of year.

  “Look at all this rubbish,” Maggie said cynically. “Designed to drive people broke trying to outdo each other to see who can buy the best present.”

  “Says you, who counts on the Christmas sales of your soaps,” Dot says with eyebrows raised.

  “That’s different and you know it. I don’t push my products on anyone, they seek me out. My soaps actually help people, not like this plastic crap,” she pushed some of the brochures lying on the table in front of her, “that breaks down three days after Christmas. And my prices aren’t so bad you need to take out a second mortgage come January.”

  “Some people and companies see Christmas as a commercial cash cow, yes,” Dot admitted. “But it doesn’t have to be all about money, you know that. Don’t you remember the Christmases I gave you when you were young? The magic you sensed, the wonder you felt?”

  Maggie sighed. “Yes, of course I remember. It’s just hard to sustain the magic when you’re an adult trying to pay the bills.”

  Ah, Dot thought. She knew where this was coming from now. Ever since Jon had left Maggie had done her absolute hardest to fulfil the roles of both parents. She felt guilty that her child had become the product of a single parent home, mostly because she blamed herself for his departure, and she was determined that Willow would never feel different to any other child in her class. And that meant she would have exactly the same as they had.

  “She doesn’t need lots of things, you know that,” Dot said gently, placing Maggie’s tea down in front of her and fetching a packet of Gingernuts from the cupboard to dunk. “She has love, she has a roof over her head and she has food in her belly. She has fresh air and a vivid imagination that helps her see the world as her playground. It’s all she needs.”

  “I know mum,” Maggie said. “But I still wish I could buy her everything she deserves.”

  “But she doesn’t want for anything. Even if you were able to buy her all the best toys in the world, you know they’d sit neglected and dusty in her room, whi
le she and Nick were out climbing trees and swimming in the creek.”

  “I know, you’re right,” Maggie sighed.

  “You’ve raised a wonderful girl. She is clever and has her head screwed on straight. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

  “Thanks mum.” Maggie reached over and gave her mother’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

  “You’re welcome. Oh bugger,” she peered into her mug, “I held my biscuit in for too long and now it’s dropped off.” She went to the drawer to fetch a teaspoon to fish the offending biscuit out. Something out the window caught her eye.

  “Oh what’s he up to now?” she asked. She could see Ray had wheeled the bike out of the shed and was connecting it with wires to a battery pack sitting on the ground. She pushed opened the window above the sink.

  “What are you doing to that thing now?” she called.

  Ray looked up. “Mind your own business.”

  “Fine, but don’t go calling me when you end up in a ditch, you crazy old bastard!” She slammed the window shut.

  “I swear that man could try the patience of a saint,” she grumbled to Maggie.

  “Yet somehow you’ve put up with him for nearly fifty years” Maggie said.

  “Yes, and I deserve more than a medal let me tell you.”

  “How do you guys do it? How have you stayed together through all the drama life has thrown at you over the years?”

  Dot was surprised by the question but she didn’t let it show on her face. Maggie wasn’t one for deep conversations, not with her family at least. In fact, Dot was so used to her daughter keeping her feelings and emotions close to her chest that it took her a minute or two to rally an answer.

  “I don’t honestly know,” she admitted. “I guess back in my day, when you stood in front of that altar and you promised yourself to each other, you just knew it was for the rest of your life. There was never any question of otherwise. You pledged your love in thick and thin, blah, blah, blah, and you stuck to it. No matter how hard it got, or how many times you could easily have killed him over the years. And believe me, there were plenty of those.”

  “You were never tempted to throw in the towel?”

  “Oh I was tempted plenty of times. There were days I packed a suitcase for you and I and we got as far as the end of the driveway. But I always came back.”