‘We’re all going camping,’ I said finally, ‘even Lianna’s son.’
‘Her son?’ Mum raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s very family-orientated.’
‘Well, we are. Aren’t we? I mean we were and now you are and Dad is. In separate ways.’
Mum’s mouth set in a grim line. ‘So you want new pyjamas because this Lianna’s son is going to accompany you all camping. How old is he?’
‘About my age. Mum, stop it. You’re just doing this because you don’t want Dad to go on a date.’
‘I didn’t know the date involved children,’ Mum said. ‘I suppose I should be pleased about such an inclusive policy, but I kind of thought they’d date quietly before involving everyone else.’
‘Right. Like you and Trib?’
‘That was your Dad’s fault for dropping you off early. If that hadn’t happened you would have met Trib when I was ready for it, not accidentally like that. I was very upset about it all.’
‘So you mean you would have kept Trib from me? Isn’t that kind of lying?’
‘No. No it isn’t. It’s just sensible. You don’t know how these things will turn out. People, kids, can get hurt. Imagine if you’d liked Trib and were imagining him as a kind of step-dad figure while Trib and I were busy trying to extricate ourselves from the relationship. There’s a right time to do things, Magenta. I’m surprised at your father, really.’
I ended up with Felix pyjamas anyway. They were on special and even Mum admitted they were cute.
‘Just don’t think that every time your Dad goes out with someone it means you have a complete change of wardrobe,’ Mum warned. ‘I’m not made of money, you know.’
‘I won’t, really I won’t. This time was special. Thanks, Mum.’
‘So what’s this woman’s son like?’
‘Okay. Pretty cool.’
‘Pretty cool?’ Mum raised one eyebrow. I think she learnt that when she learnt to be a teacher. I’d tried for hours to do it, but it never worked for me.
‘You know, for a boy.’
‘Right. As a species they tend to be very uncool,’ Mum said.
‘You know, they talk about football and stuff.’ I was squirming and trying not to look as though I was. ‘He looks like Spook ... I mean Lianna.’ I offered Mum a distraction.
‘So what does he look like?’
‘He’s got these long eyes. They’re kind of unusual.’
There was that eyebrow again. ‘Unusual good or unusual bad?’
‘Good,’ I said after pretending to think about it for a second.
‘That’s a plus. Any other distinguishing features?’
‘Curly hair.’
‘Long or short?’
‘Kind of in-between.’ I was confused as to whether we were talking about Cal or Spooky.
‘So would you call her attractive?’
‘Her? Oh, sure, yeah she’s okay, you know. A bit old but okay.’
‘How old? Do you think, for example, she’s my age? Or is she younger?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. What does it matter?’
‘I’m just curious, that’s all. If this woman is going to be your stepmother...’
‘They’ve had coffee, that’s all. Mum!’
‘Sorry. New situation. Do you want to pick up some sushi to take home for dinner?’
‘Isn’t the rice a hotbed for bacterial growth?’ That was Mum’s favourite line about sushi takeaway.
‘Yeah, it is, but let’s risk it this time, hey? I don’t feel much like cooking. Those pancakes used up all my cooking energy.’
‘She’s a great cook,’ I told Mum over sushi takeaway. She’d been bagging on about the plump roses again but that’s not why I said it, it was because we were smearing mayonnaise on our heated-up Japanese omelettes. It was Japanese mayonnaise but it still reminded me of Spooky.
‘Is she?’ Mum’s voice sounded a little arctic.
‘She made mayo from scratch. With a whisk.’
‘She found a whisk in your father’s kitchen? That surprises me.’
‘You took the blender,’ I pointed out.
‘Your father didn’t use it. Not in my day,’ Mum snapped. ‘Sorry, Magenta. Can we just leave Lianna out of our evening for a while?’
‘You keep bringing her up,’ I protested.
‘You did that time.’
‘But every other time you did.’
‘Okay, well I’ve stopped now. Let’s watch television?’
The movie didn’t help. It was some crummy romantic thing about a couple meeting somewhere exotic after they’d divorced years back and falling in love all over again.
‘Dreadful mush,’ Mum said but she didn’t turn it off. I was tired but I ended up watching the whole movie with her in solidarity. It didn’t make sense to me that she was cranky with Dad for going out with Spooky, but she was my mum and even though we’d snapped at each other and she’d asked stupid questions, I loved her.
‘I think it’s silly marrying someone you’ve divorced,’ I told her after the movie ended with the couple in church again getting married with their old bridesmaids and best man.
‘It’s a bit repetitive. But I suppose if you’ve both learnt something from the experience ... Anyway, it’s just a movie. I don’t think that happens much in real life. I mean, why bother?’
‘Would you marry Dad again?’ I asked her when she came into kiss me goodnight.
‘Good heavens, no!’ she said briskly, pulling the sheet right up to my chin, ‘As if I could do that! We spent today looking for a garden-party skirt for my next wedding.’
‘That doesn’t sound right,’ I said sleepily, ‘it sounds as though you’re going to get married over and over and over again like a celebrity.’
‘I’m not! It’s hard enough to find the right outfit once. Twice is pushing it and I wouldn’t have a hope in hell the third time.’ I opened my eyes but she was grinning. ‘Of course it’s not about what you wear, Magenta. It’s about love. I want to look good too, though. I want to be a beautiful bride. Do you think those roses were too plump?’
‘You could always go on a diet,’ I said, ‘just for the wedding. Then the plump roses wouldn’t matter because they’d be covering a skinnier you.’
‘I could,’ she sighed. ‘No more pancakes. No more Japanese omelette. No more mayo. No more choc-tops at the movies. No more popcorn while we watch DVDs. I could go on a diet.’
‘It would be a limited lifespan diet,’ I said, ‘and therefore easier to manage. Plus you can still eat popcorn, just not the buttery sort.’
‘Maybe I could get a vertically striped garden-party skirt. Vertical stripes are thin by their very nature.’
‘Not flowery, though.’
‘Flowery might be overrated. Perhaps we should have more of a geometric garden party, You know, with checkerboard-iced cupcakes and rather severe leafy arrangements.’
‘Sounds ... unusual.’
‘Unusual good or bad?’
‘Mum, stick with the flowers, please? I don’t think Trib’s going to take any radical changes that well. He liked the garden-party idea. You were going to get a hat. You’ll find the perfect skirt.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
She sounded so dejected that I gave her an extra hug. Really, being a daughter could be exhausting sometimes. Still, it did give me a good idea for the next bit of the Chronicles. A much-needed good idea.
Holly woke up with a start. Was that Eclipse coming back? How would the cat get hold of a key, though, the young witch wondered sleepily.
‘Psst, are you awake?’
‘Yessss, more or less,’ Holly said, blinded by the light, ‘who is it?’
‘It’s Lady Burgundy,’ the light-bearer answered. ‘I just want to know some things.’
/> Holly smoothed down her tunic and sat straighter against the cold, damp stones.
‘Why do you think I should tell you?’ she demanded, all sleepiness gone.
‘Because it might be worth your while,’ the silky voice answered softly.
‘Might?’
‘Might,’ the voice was crisp now, ‘I can’t make any promises.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Where did you see my ... um ... my first husband?’
‘In my scrying bowl,’ Holly answered.
‘Not the bowl, you stupid little thing! Where was he? In what country? What land? Was he with anyone or was he alone?’
‘I don’t know where it was,’ Holly answered haughtily, ‘the bowl didn’t mention a location.’
‘With anyone? A woman?’ Lady Burgundy leant against the opposite wall, still holding the lamp where it shone directly into Holly’s eyes. She was pretending to be casual, Holly was sure. She wasn’t the kind of lady to go tramping down dungeons in the middle of the night unless there was something she really wanted to know.
‘There were people with him,’ Holly said cautiously.
‘Men? Women?’
‘A mixture,’ the apprentice witch said, ‘I think.’
‘You think? Don’t you know?’ the voice was no longer silky. It was razor sharp.
‘I was more focused on Lord Burgundy, if you please. After all, he was the one supposed to be dead, your Ladyship.’
‘Still, if you think back, you’ll remember?’ The voice became coaxing again.
Holly thought. She could remember Lord Burgundy leaning on some kind of statue thing and a group of people pressing around him. Someone stood close to him, but man or woman? She squinted against the light. Long hair, she remembered, long dark hair and some silver flashing at a slender throat.
‘A woman,’ she said slowly. ‘Standing next to him.’
‘Young or old?’
‘Young enough to have hair as brown as dead leaves.’
‘You mean no grey?’ Even in the dark, Lady Burgundy put her hand up to her own hair. She used an expensive dye from bark and berries found in the woods. It gave her hair a reddish tinge that was often admired and that looked quite natural.
‘None at all,’ Holly stared past the light at Lady Burgundy. Now that her eyes were getting used to the light she could see the older woman quite well. Her sharp witch’s eyes saw the grey beginning to show at the roots of the red hair. ‘She was thin, too,’ she added for good measure, ‘and wearing a lot of jewellery.’ She watched Lady Burgundy’s eyes narrow. That will show her, Holly thought. That will teach her to lock up one of the Wood People.
Lady Burgundy stood there, holding her candle. A cold anger crossed her face like a storm across the sea.
‘I think you need to spend more time in your own company,’ she said. ‘Think things over. I’ll talk to you again when you’ve had a chance to gain some new insights.’
‘But you said...’
‘I said maybe. Remember that word? It usually means no. Or didn’t your mother teach you anything?’ With that Lady Burgundy whirled out of the dank cell, slamming the door behind her and leaving the place even darker than it had seemed before. The scuffling rats sounded closer and Holly bit back a sob. Why hadn’t she told Lady Burgundy all she knew? Why?
I didn’t know the answer myself but I figured it would come to me. I was beginning to like Holly more than I had expected. Did that kind of thing happen often to writers, I wondered? Both Holly and Lady Burgundy were a little more interesting than Lady Rosa, which wasn’t really fair as she was the one trying to be good. It was just that the whole kissing-parapet thing was going on for too long. It wasn’t her fault, it was mine. I vowed to rescue her even if it meant she spurned Ricardo. It was weird that when I thought of her saying no to Ricardo it made her that little bit more intriguing. After all, what girl in her right mind would say no to Ricardo? He had everything, He was rich, good-looking, strong and brave and just flirty enough. Maybe she could see some kind of shadow no one else could. Or maybe she’d feel it when they kissed?
I thought I’d sleep on it. I didn’t want to make any big mistakes. I didn’t want to have to revise anything. Writing it down once was hard enough. It was sort of like marriage. I’d want to get that right the first time, too, if I could. Look what Mum was going through just trying to get a thin skirt. I knew she hadn’t had to think of vertical stripes the first time. I’d seen the photos of her and Dad even though she’d hidden them in the store room. They’d been wedding-y with lots of lace and roses and not a stripe anywhere. She’d smiled nervously and beautifully and Dad had held her hand. They’d looked fresh and young until life had revised them. I was against revision. It hurt too much.
Camping
I expected Dad to be in a great mood when I went back to his place. With the camp coming up he had lots to do to keep his mind off any of his problems. Not to mention the fact that he and Spooky had been in almost daily communication about the camp – where to go, when to leave, what clothes to bring and so forth.
I heard this from Cal, who talked to me on MSN. He didn’t talk every day like a boyfriend or anything. We just happened to be online at the same time on a couple of days. He told me that Spooky kicked him off the computer regularly so she could talk to Dad.
So it was a complete surprise when I got to Dad’s place to discover him grumping around.
‘What is it?’ I asked when the banging and swearing from the garage became too much to ignore.
‘This camp is getting out of hand.’ Dad glared at me as though it was all my fault. ‘It’s bad timing, too. In fact, the timing couldn’t be worse.’
‘Why? We weren’t doing anything. We never do anything.’ I normally didn’t like to rub it in, but when he pushed me to the edge like this I could play dirty.
‘Well, it just may be that some of us had plans for that weekend.’
‘You had plans? Then why did you make it that weekend? You set the date.’
He glared at me again. ‘The plans came up after the original plan.’
‘That doesn’t make sense,’ I pointed out. ‘You can’t have plans come up after other plans. You could have, I don’t know, ideas, maybe? Anyway, how is that my fault and what was the other idea?’
‘Nothing. Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, probably.’ Dad sounded a bit sheepish. ‘I suppose you’re right, Magenta. It was my fault for agreeing to go in the first place.’
‘I don’t get it.’ I drew up a milk crate and sat down on it. ‘You were the one who suggested going. I thought I’d come home and you’d be cheerful and smiling and busy.’
‘I am busy.’ Dad waved at the growing pile of equipment. ‘You’ve got to admit I’m busy.’
‘I wanted you to be cheerfully busy.’ I felt my bottom lip wobble a bit and my chin crease.
‘Oh Mags,’ Dad came over and put his hand on my shoulder, ‘I’m sorry. I am looking forward to camping. Truly. It’s just that something came up and I’m a bit worried that I’ve given Lianna the wrong impression. It’s a difficult situation.’
‘I don’t understand what’s difficult,’ I said stubbornly. ‘It’s just a friendly camping trip.’
‘I hope so,’ Dad said, patting my shoulder. ‘I really hope so.’
I was looking forward to camping. By Wednesday I had packed practically everything I was taking. I’d recharged batteries for my torch, my camera and my mp3 player. I’d supervised Dad making toasted muesli, making sure he didn’t add anything I detested like sunflower seeds or dried banana. I’d found my old slippers, which was quite a feat as I’d taken them off down the backyard behind the compost bin. I’d
picked the slugs off them and dried them out in the laundry. I’d even found my best hat. I’d checked essentials like sunblock, insect repellent and lavender oil for if I did get bitten by anything itchy and also for making me smell okay, despite dodgy showers. I’d bought 24-hour strength deodorant. I was prepared.
It was weird not hearing from Cal for all that time. I kept expecting him to pop up on MSN, so I kept the computer on for longer than I normally would but no Cal, and no Lianna, either. That had Dad scratching his head.
‘Maybe we should ring?’ I said.
‘I’ve only got a mobile number,’ Dad said, ‘I’ve already tried it. Out of range or turned off.’
‘Maybe they’ve lost the charger?’
‘Maybe they’ve gone interstate.’ Dad sounded gloomy ‘We’ve done all this for nothing.’
‘I wouldn’t mind going camping with just us,’ I told him even though my heart sank at the thought of Cal not seeing me in my new Felix pyjamas.
‘Why of course, I didn’t mean that,’ Dad said but he wasn’t as convincing as he could have been.
‘I bet that’s what’s happened – they’re so busy trying to pack everything that they’re not getting on to the computer at all and they’ve lost the mobile phone charger,’ I said heartily, but a bit of me could imagine Spooky packing up her small dilapidated car with all their belongings and fleeing interstate. Not from Dad, but from something else. A wicked landlord or a fight with the friend who ran the café.
On Thursday I got a text message on my mobile. It read: All set 4 sat am do we bring anything? I showed Dad the text. He dictated the reply to me: We have everything under control equip-wise u handle food as agreed c u 8am.
‘Maybe she’s been testing recipes? Maybe that’s why we haven’t heard anything until now?’
He shook his head. ‘It’ll be something messier,’ he said. ‘Lianna’s one of those people, Magenta. Life’s never straightforward.’
‘Cal’s pretty down the line.’
‘One of them has to be,’ Dad said gloomily.
Magenta McPhee Page 10