Christmas Blue at Flynn's

by Angela Verdenius

  Her eyes sparkled with humour even as she sighed. “Okay, I better go and brave the rellies once more. I’ve sheltered here long enough.”

  “Anytime, Flynn.” Wondering if he dared try and kiss her, he trailed her to the fence. “My home is your home.” But the moment was gone. Wasn’t it?

  He hesitated, started to reach out for her as she hopped onto the milk crate placed against the fence, the usual springboard to jump the fence separating their homes.

  “Ditto.” Bracing her hands on the fence, she paused to glance back at him over her shoulder.

  Suddenly his palms got a little sweaty. Was this the moment? The very second to make his move? Kiss her? Just grab her and kiss her? Don’t kiss her? Just smile? God, he wanted to kiss her. Would he be pushing it? Did she feel-

  And then the decision was taken from him.

  Flynn spun back, kissing him quickly right on the mouth before pulling herself up the fence, swinging those shapely legs over the top and then dropping from sight on the other side.

  Leaving Ben with his heart bumping, his lips tingling, and a grin slowly curving his lips.

  Yes! He pumped a fist into the air, stopped when he caught Scruff staring at him.

  “Trust me,” he said. “I have the best ever reason for doing that.”

  With that, he stuck his hands into his pockets and strolled back into the house whistling a jaunty tune.

  Seconds later he darted back out, picked up the light beer tin, looked towards the gardenias, sighed, went back into the house and reappeared with a plastic bag and a pooper scooper.

  Love life or not, sweet on a pretty woman or not, a dog had a way of bringing you back to your senses.

  But he was still grinning even as he attended to Scruff’s Important Yorkie Business.

  Chapter 4

  Getting up the next morning, Flynn was determined to put the past few days behind her. It was a new day, a new beginning, and she was determined to face it with a smile.

  After all, it was only 2 days until Christmas Day and she was sure that things would work out. She just had to be positive.

  Tonight she was having the BBQ, a time for everyone to gather around the table, partake of burnt meat, potato salad, cold drinks, and laugh and talk. Just what was needed, a proper family get together.

  And Ben was coming.

  That thought alone made her smile, hug herself, blush a little.

  Cripes, had she really spun around and kissed him? Yes, yes she had. Even now just the memory had a little shiver of delight prickle down her arms. She’d never have gotten the nerve up to do it if he hadn’t been meaning to kiss her first.

  Oh yeah, she knew. Dreamily smiling at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Flynn remembered Ben’s face getting closer, the flicker of desire in his eyes, his breath warm on her lips.

  Mmm…

  “Flynn?” Gramma’s reflection appearing over her shoulder effectively jolted her out of pleasant memories.

  “’Morning.” Flynn smiled brightly. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I should have,” Gramma replied. “I slept alone.”

  “Ah…right?”

  “I mean, alone.”

  “It’s a single bed.”

  “Flynn, your Gram wasn’t in the other bed!”

  “What?”

  “She didn’t come home last night.”

  Flynn’s mouth fell open. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

  “I only just found out now. I woke up and her bed wasn’t slept in.”

  “Crap.” Yanking the robe over her jarmies, Flynn hurried from the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” Gramma queried.

  Was she serious? “To call the cops, what else?”

  “That’s not going to do any good.”

  “Good grief, I know you don’t like Gram, but really?” Grabbing the phone, Flynn started dialling. “That’s taking dislike too far.”

  Gramma cut the phone off just as it started ringing.

  “What the hell?” Flynn stared at her in disbelief.

  “Don’t look like that,” Gramma chided. “I know exactly where that old biddy is.”

  “You do? Where?”

  Gramma’s lips puckered like she’d been sucking lemons. “She spent the night with that bikie.”

  It took several seconds for the words to sink in. “What?”

  “That old pervert across the street. With the beard. The motorbike. The tattoos?”

  “Rocky?”

  “That’s the one.” Gramma walked off.

  Mouth open, Flynn raced into the lounge and pulled the curtain aside to peer at the house across the street. Gram and Rocky? Noooo. Not possible. Even for Gram that was going a bit too - oh. Oh. Flynn’s eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. Oh.

  Phoebe jumped up onto the windowsill to press her little blue nose to the glass, watching with interest as Gram waltzed across the road like she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Unbelievable. Flynn didn’t know what to think. Gram had spent the night with Rocky. Spent the night. Her and Rocky in a bed, doing - argh!

  Dropping the curtain back into place, Flynn drew away, not knowing whether to laugh or cringe. Holy heck, Gram and Rocky!

  She’d known Ben for a year, Gram had only just met Rocky, and already Gram was way ahead in the romance stakes.

  Hearing the gate give its usual squeal of badly-needing-oiling hinges, Flynn hurried out of the lounge to the kitchen, yanking open the ‘fridge to study the contents.

  Lips pursed, Gramma was busy putting bread in the toaster.

  Silently, Flynn got out the milk, then the cereal from the pantry and a bowl and spoon, poured the cereal into the bowl, and was in the act of adding milk when the front door opened and shut.

  That made Flynn realise something else. The front door had been locked, hadn’t it? Oh, wait, maybe Gramma had opened it. She frowned. No, the security screen was always locked.

  “Gramma, did you leave the front door unlocked?” She took the bowl to the table.

  “Are you kidding me? No. You never know what pervert could walk through it.”

  “Then Gram must have taken the key with her.”

  Gramma placed the jam and Vegemite on the table. “That’d explain why I couldn’t get out there. Selfish old bat.”

  “Helloooo duckies!” Gram popped into the kitchen, hair dishevelled, clothes rumpled, eyes sparkling.

  Gramma’s lips tightened.

  “I am starving.” Plucking a piece of toast from the pile on the plate Gramma had ready to place on the table, Gram took a big bite. “Worked up an appetite. A huge appetite.”

  “Yes.” Gramma’s voice practically dripped icicles. “I’m sure you have.”

  “Considering all those edible condoms-”

  “Joy!”

  “Just saying.” Gram winked at Flynn. “I got me some. Did you get some?”

  Flynn choked.

  “Now see what you did.” Gramma glared at Gram while pouring some orange juice and placing it before Flynn. “Here you go, dear.”

  Flynn drank, spluttered, coughed, drank again. It took a full minute before she could draw a breath without choking.

  “Near on killed the child with your disgraceful behaviour,” Gramma scolded.

  “Pfft.” Gram waved her hand about. “Nothing wrong with spreading the love.”

  “Or the herpes.”

  “We used condoms.”

  “Edible ones? How fast would they disintegrate, do you think?”

  “We used them for play. For the real thing I had glow-in-the-dark condoms. I don’t reckon the edible ones would last for real sex, though Rocky’s pretty fast.”

  Gramma’s lip curled in disgust even more.

  “The man’s a goer,” Gram said. “Pity he can’t stop. Coming too soon, that is. Came way too soon. But don’t worry, the calluses on his palms and fingers did a pretty good job of frictioning me right-”

  “Joy! Enough!”

&n
bsp; “Yeah.” Flynn had to agree. “Really. Enough.”

  Gram shrugged. “I get it. Jealousy.”

  Flynn didn’t care what she thought, she just wanted the image of the grey-bearded old bikie and her Gram with a packet of edible condoms gone from her mind. With a shudder, she spooned more cereal into her mouth, tried to blot the image by concentrating on the dried fruit amongst the bran flakes.

  “Never took you for a prude,” Gram commented.

  “Grandparents are like parents,” Flynn replied. “They don’t have sex. It doesn’t happen. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Genuinely amused, Gram laughed.

  “Wash your hands.” Gramma paused. “In fact, have a shower. Then you can have some breaky with us.”

  “Sure.” Eyes twinkling mischievously, Gram put her hand in her pocket as she walked away, withdrew it to shake a scrap of material in the air just as she disappeared around the doorway. “Oh my, what have we here? I do believe it’s my undies!”

  Gramma shook her head as Gram’s evil laugh echoed down the hallway.

  Dax strode into the room, face white with make-up, the usual black lips, eyeliner and eye shadow. This time his irises were pale purple. Dressed in his customary black pants, shirt and boots, his black hair was tied back at the nape with a black elastic band. “Did I see Gram waving around a thong?”

  ~*~

  Gram and Gramma actually stayed home to help Flynn, which was remarkable.

  Standing at the kitchen bench chopping fruit salad, watching Gram ice the little cupcakes while Gramma attended the potato salad, Flynn had happiness and contentment oozing through her.

  Now this was more like it. This is what she’d envisaged when she’d invited everyone. Okay, Sally and Dax had also featured in the vision but what the heck, right now she’d take Gram and Gramma only, it was fine.

  Sally had phoned and promised that she and Sid would be there for the BBQ.

  Dax was off doing something, saying as he’d left that “Sunshine turns to rain, and all darkness brightens and wanes”, whatever the heck that meant. But he’d promised to return in time for the barbie so Flynn gathered that he was going to be out for the whole day.

  Refusing to even worry about it or feel resentful that he didn’t join in some family time, she concentrated on having a lovely sharing experience with her grandmothers.

  It started well enough.

  Gram chatted about her Christmas experiences as a child with her parents, how they travelled around as her itchy-footed father went from one job and town to another, his family in tow.

  “We stayed together.” Gram’s tongue poked out the corner of her mouth as she iced the cupcakes. “Mum never went without us kids.”

  “My parents grew up, married, lived and died in the same town.” Gramma checked the potatoes in the steaming pot. “Our Christmases were always family, tinsel, presents, roast dinner, the works.”

  “Roast dinner.” Flynn peeled mangoes. “I like the idea of that but its way too hot to roast. The oven would just heat up the house.”

  “Didn’t matter back then.” Gramma foraged in the ‘fridge. “The wood stove was always lit, always simmering summer, winter, autumn and spring.”

  “This is true.” Gram agreed. “We cooked on it, heated water, did everything.”

  Oohh, the two grandmothers agreed! This was looking very promising.

  “There’s a lot to be said for modern conveniences,” Flynn said. “Such as fans and air conditioners.”

  “My neighbour always has a roast for Christmas lunch.” Gram critically inspected her icing handiwork on a cupcake. “Roast, gravy, all the trimmings.”

  “We always did the cold meat and salad.” Flynn cut the rind off watermelon. “A lot of people do the cold food.”

  “Sensible.” Gramma started cutting spring onions. “I was always worried that when your mother married your father some weird things would happen on Christmas Day. Having cold lunches wasn’t so bad.”

  Gram’s head popped up at that. “What? What do you mean? Ralph wasn’t weird.”

  Ah, bum. Flynn halted, knife hovering above the watermelon. “Nothing. She meant nothing. Right, Gramma?”

  Gramma just kept cutting onions.

  “Right, Gramma?”

  “Of course, dear.” Gramma smiled a secretive little smile.

  Gram’s eyes narrowed. “My son wasn’t weird.”

  “I never said she was.”

  “He married your Felicity.”

  “He did. I was at the wedding.”

  Slowly, Flynn resumed slicing watermelon.

  “So what was that crack about you being worried?”

  “No crack.” Gramma kept cutting. “Your family was just different to mine, that’s all. I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Different?”

  No no no! Not now! “Please don’t argue,” Flynn begged. “Please.”

  Both looked at her, and something about the desperation on her face must have struck them. For the first time, their faces softened.

  Thank God.

  “We’re not arguing.” Gram positioned the piping bag above another cupcake. “Just having a little chat. Right, Joy?”

  “Of course.”

  “So just what did you mean?” Gram smiled. Tightly. “About my Ralph?”

  “You have to admit, Joy, your family travelled, lived in a caravan, were rather, shall we say, free?” Gramma inspected with approval the pile of spring onions now neatly cut in thin circles.

  “As in total contrast to your family that grew up in the same place they were born and died, lived in a house, and were rather, shall we say, stick-up-the-arse?”

  “Gram!” Flynn snapped.

  “I meant, of course, more refined.”

  Gramma scraped the onions into the bowl. “We certainly knew our place.”

  “Some of us knew how to make our own,” Gram shot back.

  “How about we change the subject?” Flynn suggested frantically. “How, exactly, did Mum and Dad meet?”

  “He seduced her,” Gramma said, at the same time Gram replied, “She rode him to hell and back.”

  Oh crap on a stick!

  The two ladies glared at each other.

  The knife clattered to the counter from Flynn’s nerveless hand. Shit shit shit!

  Then Gram smiled again - all teeth. “They found they were compatible.”

  “Yes.” Picking up the knife, Gramma thrust it at Flynn. “Keep slicing, dear.”

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t looking and nearly stabbed Flynn in the hand with it.

  “Don’t blame the girl,” Gram said.

  “Huh?” Gramma glanced at Gram, shot a look to where Flynn had jerked her hand out of the way of the knife. “Oops. Sorry, dear. Here you go.” Carefully, she passed her the knife handle first.

  “Right. Yes.” Taking the knife, Flynn sought for another topic change. “Gram, you do lovely icing. Ice is your thing. Where did you learn that?”

  “Practice,” Gramma said before Gram could reply.

  Gram smiled.

  “Sniffing it up,” Gramma finished.

  Gram shot to her feet. “I never snorted a damn thing in my life!”

  “You were on the gunja though,” Gramma shot back.

  “That was years ago! And just to relax!”

  “Most people take a holiday or read a book.”

  “And others take the stick from their arse and actually lean back in a chair!”

  Everything was going downhill fast at the speed of light. The long-held animosity between the two women was filling the air like heated smoke from their nostrils.

  “Ladies!” Flynn held up her hand beseechingly. “Stop!”

  “I’m lucky my Felicity didn’t turn into some kind of drug addict with half a brain from breathing in that gunja smoke you poured around the house!” Gramma slammed the potato salad bowl onto the kitchen bench. “And she didn’t even touch it.”

  “You don’t pour that shi
t!” Gram slammed the piping bag onto the kitchen table. A long squirt of icing spattered over a tray of cupcakes. “You smoke it, you halfwit!”

  “There. See?”

  “I don’t do it anymore!”

  “You rub it into your skin even now.” Gramma stabbed her finger at her. “I’ve seen the container!”

  “That’s Hemp cream, you ignoramus!”

  Basically from there, it all went to Hell in a hand basket.

  And just when a horrified Flynn thought it couldn’t get any worse, Archie’s head popped into view in the window. “What the hell is going on over here? This ruddy blue filling the air is disturbing my nap!”

  ~*~

  Holding the box containing the large Pavlova topped with cream, strawberries, banana and passionfruit, Ben walked down the little pathway at the side of Flynn’s house to the backyard.

  The big wooden table she’d hired sat in the shady area of the yard with chairs each side. Plastic plates and cutlery were laid out, and three bowls of different salads lined the centre of the table. Bread rolls, already buttered, sheltered under plastic cling wrap.

  The old drum BBQ with a hot plate resting atop it was fired up, Gram checking the height of the flames. “Just about ready to start cooking.”

  Gramma came down the steps holding a big tray of raw meat. Sally followed behind carrying another big tray with a bowl of cut-up raw onions and some long-handled tongs.

  The meat wasn’t even cooking and his mouth was watering already.

  “Ohhh.” Sally had spotted the box. “Dessert.”

  “After you’ve had your main meal,” Gramma said automatically.

  “I’ll put it in the ‘fridge.” Ben went through the back door into the kitchen.

  Flynn looked up from where she was standing against the kitchen sink.

  “Hi.” He grinned.

  She blushed a little, smiled.

  Oh ho, she remembered the kiss. Sure as hell he did, his toes still curled at the memory. In fact, he’d gone to bed with the memory of her kiss on his lips and that had resulted in a very erotic dream involving a naked Flynn.

  Best. Dream. Ever.

  “I promised to bring dessert.” He placed the box on the bench.

  Moving close beside him, she lifted the lid. “Pavlova! My favourite. Yum.”