by Sally Gould
***
Soon afterwards, Charlie stuck his head round the doorway of the kitchen. “Aunt Evil’s Merc just pulled up.”
“Is she by herself? Or is the other evil one with her?” I turned the gas down because the stew was bubbling like a hot spring.
“She’s by herself. You must’ve got rid of Leo,” said Charlie. “I’ve got to pick some parsley from the garden.” He disappeared.
Poor Nanna. She’d be so disappointed that Avril didn’t really have a boyfriend. And I couldn’t tell Nanna that the boyfriend was really a scumbag real estate agent who wanted to sell her house. Aunt Evil made me so mad. How could she do that to her own mom?
Just as I had that thought, I noticed three cans of dog food on a shelf. Poor Nanna, she still hadn’t thrown out anything of Winston’s. The picture of the dog on the yellow label stared at me. He was trying to tell me something; I could tell.
Suddenly it hit me. What a brilliant idea!
Charlie came in with the parsley.
“I’ve got a—” I stopped talking because Nanna walked in behind him.
“Oh, you’re good boys,” she said, before turning round to see her evil daughter.
Aunt Evil filled the doorway. She was dressed in a navy suit. Her lips were red and so were her nails. She kissed Nanna and said to us, “Hello Charlie, Max. Keeping out of trouble?”
Putting on my best pompous voice, I replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact. We’ve only broken three windows today.” I gave the stew a professional stir.
“That wouldn’t surprise me. Perhaps one day you’ll go to the park to play cricket. Then no one will have the inconvenience of having to replace a broken window, let alone pay for it.”
“Now, now,” said Nanna. “They’re good boys; they’ve been helping me out. And they’re good company.”
“I’m glad someone appreciates us, Nanna,” I said in my pompous voice. “You both go into the lounge room and sit down. Charlie and I’ll have dinner ready soon.”
As they headed to the lounge room, I heard Nanna ask Aunt Evil, ‘Where’s your friend?’
I grabbed a can of dog food and said to Charlie, “I’ve got a plan.”
The phone began to ring. Charlie and I stared at each other. He said, “Mom and Dad.”
“They always call at dinnertime. Tell them I’m busy cooking.” I heard Nanna answer the phone. Quickly, I got out the small saucepan from the cupboard. I ladled some stew into it, minus the meat.
Charlie stood there staring at me. Finally, he said, “You’re not.”
I opened the can. “You’re jealous because I thought of it. Go out and talk to Mom, or they’ll come in.”
He did. I’d begun to mix half the can of dog food in with the stew in the small saucepan, when Aunt Evil walked in. I grabbed the tea towel from the bench and threw it over the can.
“Max,” she screeched, “come and talk to your mother.”
With lightning speed, I swirled the dog food into the stew. “I’m cooking.”
“Max.” She must’ve practiced speaking like that. How anyone could put all that disapproval into one word, I don’t know. “Your parents probably miss you. Not that I can understand why. You should at least talk to them.”