Times Like These

by Ana McKenzie

  ‘How have you been doing your grocery shopping?’

  ‘Oh.’ That was a drab topic, and Bianca wrinkled her nose, feeling tired again. ‘My neighbour and her daughter have been picking it up for me. I pay them to, of course.’

  ‘Do you order it online?’

  Bianca shook her head. ‘No, how would I do that?’

  ‘On your computer.’

  That thing. ‘I haven’t turned that on since May. At least.’ It was November now. She didn’t miss Merren’s indrawn hiss of breath. ‘I guess you use computers a lot, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Merren answered. ‘Just a bit.’

  Bianca shrugged and rested her head against the back of her seat again. This car was really incredibly quiet. She could hardly tell it was going. Her eyes drifted shut.

  ‘What sort do you have?’

  ‘What sort of what?’

  ‘Computer.’ The voice was patient and Bianca smiled. Merren’s voice really was delicious. With her eyes closed it was like being licked by sound.

  She opened her eyes and sat up. ‘Ah, I don’t know, why? It’s just a laptop. I never used it much. Just for banking and emails, really. I’ve never used social media, and I don’t have a website, although my agent has been making noises for the last year or more about setting up one of those.’

  She sniffed. ‘I’m not interested. Anyway, I can’t use the damned thing now even if I wanted to.’

  ‘You can, you know. It has settings for the vision impaired.’

  That made Bianca purse her lips. ‘Well, I can’t set it up for that if I can’t see it. And besides, what would I use it for?’

  Merren laughed. ‘Everything. I’ll get it organised for you.’ She laughed some more. ‘What do you do with your days anyway?’

  They turned again, and Bianca leaned toward the windscreen. She was pretty sure they’d just turned into her driveway. She’d been driving over that bump for years. Even blind, she recognised it.

  ‘Are we back?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep.’

  She nodded. ‘And as for your question – I used to paint.’

  The car pulled to a halt, and there was a click as Merren switched the engine off. They sat for a moment.

  ‘What else did you used to do?’

  A shrug. Trying not to let the sharp pain of not being able to do any of it anymore dig too deep. She’d had too nice a break. ‘The usual,’ she said. ‘Read, go out, see friends.’ She watched the play of light and shadow out of the corner of her eyes. ‘I don’t know. Whatever I felt like, really. Mostly I painted.’

  ‘Every day?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  She felt as much as heard Merren sit back in her seat. ‘And what do you do now?’

  Nothing. ‘What’s with the twenty questions?’ Bianca rubbed her forehead, turning her face away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Merren said. ‘I wasn’t meaning to be nosy. I was just looking for ways to help.’

  Bianca sighed. ‘You’ve been a big help today already. There isn’t anything else you can do. I’m tired though, and I think I’d like to go and lie down. It’s been a busy day for me. I’m not used to all the stimulation.’

  ‘Of course, here, let me get your door.’ Merren was out of the car in a flash, and the next thing Bianca knew, her door was open, waiting for her to get out.

  ‘Will you help me take in the food your mother gave me?’ she asked. ‘Or do you think you should take it? I’m sure your mum would ordinarily have given it to you.’

  ‘Nope,’ Merren said, and the back door opened. ‘It’s all yours. Mum never gives me stuff to take home. I want to take advantage of her superior cooking skills, I have to visit her. She does it like that deliberately.’

  Bianca relaxed a fraction again. ‘I bet it works,’ she said. ‘Can I carry some?’ She held her arms out.

  A container landed on them and she grasped hold of it, grateful that Merren had given her one to carry instead of treating her as helpless.

  ‘It works, all right. Although – don’t tell Mum – I’d visit anyway, just to say hi to her and Grandma.’

  ‘I would too,’ Bianca agreed, peering around to try to find the house. She had to skirt around the car, patted it with a hand and started walking.

  ‘Do you need some help?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve got it.’ Another thing about Merren – she didn’t just grab an arm and steer. She asked. Bianca felt a stir of warm appreciation spread through her. That mattered, she decided. Things like that mattered.

  She thought she liked Merren Hardy very much.

  ‘Home sweet home,’ Merren said. ‘What’s your house named?’

  Bianca raised her eyebrows. ‘It doesn’t have a name.’

  ‘That’s too bad. I think houses like having names.’

  ‘You think your place likes being called The Burrow?’ Bianca asked, remembering.

  ‘You bet it does. Makes it feel all warm and appreciated.’

  ‘Feeling warm and appreciated is important?’

  There was a pause, one that felt rather round and full to Bianca. Pregnant.

  ‘Feeling warm and appreciated is important,’ Merren said at last, softly. ‘Even to houses.’

  They stood in front of the door, and Bianca couldn’t seem to make herself move. The keys were in her bag, but she didn’t dig them out.

  Instead she simply thought about what Merren had said. She thought about Merren.

  Then she didn’t know what to think. ‘Well,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll have to come up with a name for my house.’

  She could feel Merren standing beside her, patiently waiting for her to open the door. It was too dim to see her at all, but she could feel her. The woman who had named her house The Burrow.

  ‘Will you take me to your house one day?’ she asked impulsively.

  ‘Sure,’ Merren said.

  ‘I want to see what it’s like.’

  ‘Okay.’ A pause. ‘And you still owe me a tour of this place.’ Merren’s voice lowered, wheedled. ‘I’ll help you come up with a name.’

  Bianca nodded and finally moved, finding the keys, sifting through them for the front door key and groping around for a moment until it found the lock.

  ‘I’d call you,’ she said, pushing the door open and stepping inside, feeling the house reach out for her, ushering her back into its familiar space. ‘But I’ve always been lousy at remembering numbers and writing it down for me won’t be any use.’

  She turned towards the kitchen, Merren padding softly after her.

  ‘Perhaps we can just make a date now, then?’ Merren suggested, and Bianca heard the fridge open, Merren putting the casserole away. She put her own container down on the table. The flowers in the vase were dying. She could smell their wilting. Tomorrow, she decided, she’d go outside and pick some new ones.

  ‘I need some time,’ she said. ‘To think about the ideas we came up with today. About how to go about painting.’

  ‘All right. How much thinking time do you need?’

  Bianca swallowed, gazed unseeing around the kitchen. ‘A few days?’ she said.

  ‘Okay.’ Merren’s voice was even. ‘Three days’ time, morning, same time as I came here today.’ Her voice lightened. ‘Be ready,’ she laughed.

  ‘Is that a threat of some sort?’ Bianca found herself laughing too. ‘Because it’s not making me knock-kneed or anything.’

  There was a pause, and somehow the air in the kitchen stilled, and Bianca could swear she heard the gentle drift of dust in the afternoon light, and the sudden tripping of her own pulse in her neck.

  ‘I think it might be more of a promise,’ Merren said at last. ‘But for now, I’ll see myself out.’ She moved, and there was a light touch on Bianca’s upper arm, a gesture of leaving. ‘Three days,’ she said, and moved through the haze of dust and light and out of sight.

  Leaving Bianca standing there, and now she was knock-kneed.

  Chapter Thirteen

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nbsp; ‘Merren. Back so soon?’ Her mum lifted an eyebrow in quizzical surprise. Merren couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if her mother was actually not surprised at all.

  ‘Came to mow the lawn,’ she said, her voice gruff.

  ‘Huh,’ Oliva replied, bending down to the oven. ‘Naomi and I are about to do a photoshoot for the next week’s posts.’ She drew out a tray of cookies, frowning as she inspected them.

  They were a perfect golden-brown and Merren’s mouth watered. But she wasn’t there to swipe cookies off the tray. Without thinking, she patted her waist. She’d been doing a little too much of the cookie-swiping lately.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ her mother said absently, setting the tray on the counter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not getting even remotely fat.’

  Merren looked down at herself and pulled a face. ‘I don’t know, Mum. There’s this ridge of pudge that wasn’t there before.’

  ‘Pfft.’ Olivia scooped the cookies one by one onto a vintage plate. ‘Exercise more. That will fix that.’ She patted her own curves. ‘You do realise though, that a woman’s body is designed for some softness?’ She rolled her eyes and shook her head, then grinned at her daughter. ‘Of course you realise that. If any of us ought to appreciate that fact, it should be you.’

  ‘What should be Merren?’ Suzette breezed into the room in a wave of salt-scented air. She stole a cookie from the plate then backed up, wagging a finger at her mother. ‘Too late now, Mum. It’s had my hands all over it.’ She took a bite before any other argument could be made, then swivelled her head to look at her sister.

  ‘Heard you’re getting your clothes off with a famous artist,’ she said, mouth full of crumbs.

  ‘Suzette!’

  ‘Mum!’ Suzette grinned. ‘It’s true, though, isn’t it?’ She turned to Merren. ‘She makes you model nude, right?’

  Merren’s fingers itched to pick up a cookie just to give her something to do, somewhere to look. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Strictly speaking, I take my clothes off for her, not with her.’

  Suzette rolled her eyes. ‘Semantics,’ she said, then squinted at her sister. She was five years younger but no dummy. Merren fought to hold her gaze.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Suzette said. ‘You’re in trouble, sis. No doubt about it.’

  Merren crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat.

  ‘That’s enough, Suzette,’ Olivia said, rescuing Merren who, despite her stony face, could feel her cheeks glowing like hot coals in the middle of winter.

  With a last grin at Merren, Suzette turned away, opening the fridge door and leaning on it, peering at the shelves. Her mother swatted her with a tea towel.

  ‘You’re letting all the cold air out.’

  ‘I’m conducting a survey of the contents. It’s a serious business. Merren, you want to go sailing again today?’

  Merren shook her head. ‘No. I’m going to do the lawn.’

  Suzette emerged from the fridge with a jar of yoghurt. She waved it at her mother. ‘What’s the flavour of the week?’

  Olivia was arranging food on plates again. ‘Turmeric. Goes nice with the honeydew melon.’

  Holding the mason jar up for inspection, Suzette shook her head. ‘Don’t we have any regular food around here?’

  ‘Suzette honey,’ Olivia said, standing back to look at her handiwork. ‘You want what isn’t here, you’re free to buy it.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’ Suzette found a bowl and spoon, filled it with No-Grainola, topped it with yoghurt, then turned to Merren.

  ‘So, she’s blind?’

  There was no point playing ignorant. ‘Yeah,’ Merren said.

  ‘That’s got to suck. Being an artist an all.’

  ‘She has a good attitude,’ Olivia said. ‘Now, Suzette, how about you move along so I can talk to your sister?’ She straightened and dusted her hands.

  Suzette widened her eyes and grinned. ‘Time for your birds and bees lecture, sis. See ya!’ She scooted out of the kitchen with an exaggerated wiggle of her butt.

  ‘When is she leaving for Auckland?’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘Both too soon and not soon enough,’ she said. ‘But the real problem right now, is you.’

  There was a lump in Merren’s throat. ‘Me?’ she said, swallowing.

  ‘You,’ her mother confirmed.

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’ She held her hands up, palms empty as though to prove it.

  ‘I rather think you want to, though, don’t you?’ Olivia gave her daughter a sympathetic smile and reached for the teapot. ‘We have time for tea before doing the photographs, I think.’

  ‘I need to do the lawns,’ Merren protested. ‘That’s what I came here for.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘I did!’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘There’s no problem, Mum,’ she said. ‘Honestly.’

  ‘She’s almost my age, Merren.’

  Her face was hot again. ‘Jeeze, Mum. Nothing’s happened. And we’ve only just met.’ Well, not really. She thought of Bianca in the car on the way home. Saying when they kissed. When, not if. Her heart thudded against her ribcage and she pressed a hand to it, half-afraid her mother would hear it. She could hear it. Right through her body.

  ‘What happened after you took her home yesterday?’

  Merren shook her head. ‘Nothing. Bianca was tired. I helped her carry all that food inside and then I said goodbye.’ She swallowed again.

  ‘Having only just met makes no difference. Attraction doesn’t count time. You’re bright red, Merren. I can see how you’re feeling about her.’

  ‘No,’ Merren lied. ‘You can see how embarrassing this conversation is.’

  Her mother laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Then why did you come here today, sweetheart?’

  ‘To mow the lawn?’

  Her grandmother walked into the room. ‘You mowed the lawn three days ago. I know it’s summer, but it hasn’t had a chance to grow more than a few millimetres yet.’

  Merren groaned. ‘Not you too?’

  Her grandmother shook her head. ‘Nope. Unlike your mother, I’m of the opinion that a steamy love affair with the pretty artist is exactly what you need.’

  ‘But Naomi – the age difference,’ Olivia said.

  ‘Pshaw. It’s just what she needs. A woman of experience.’

  ‘She’s only a few years younger than me!’

  Naomi smiled at her oldest granddaughter. ‘Ten years, but we’re not counting, are we, Merren?’

  ‘Well, she should be,’ Olivia said. ‘Not to mention that Bianca Graves is in a very vulnerable position at the moment.’

  ‘She is,’ Naomi agreed, still looking at Merren. She raised her eyebrows. ‘But our Merren is probably just what she needs too.’ She looked at Olivia. ‘We’ve brought her up right, Olivia. She’s not going to take advantage of the woman in any way the woman doesn’t want.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Merren interrupted. ‘But I am in the room, you know. Can I contribute to this conversation too, or is it strictly about me and not including me?’

  Naomi threw back her head and laughed. ‘What is your opinion on the subject then, love?’

  ‘My opinion is that it’s not up for debate.’ She corrected herself. ‘There’s nothing to debate anyway. I only brought her here yesterday because I thought getting out of the house would do her good.’ She cleared her throat. Tell me something intimate. And I thought you two would be interesting people – and non-judgemental – for her to meet. Low pressure, you know?’

  Both her mother and her grandmother were looking at her now. Scepticism shone from their eyes. Merren’s gaze skittered away.

  ‘Okay,’ she said on a sigh. ‘So, I’m attracted to her.’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘What do I do about it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Olivia said. ‘You’ve only known her five minutes. Attraction might not count time, but the brain is perfectly capable of it.’

  ‘Spend time with her,’ Naomi said.
‘Don’t be afraid of things progressing. You’ll be good for each other.’

  ‘Naomi!’ Olivia’s exasperation was more than evident.

  ‘Olivia. The kid’s got hunger written all over her. And I’m sure you saw as well as I did yesterday, the way Bianca was leaning towards her all the time, like the gravity was extra strong between them.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘That was just because…’

  ‘Because what?’

  Her mother held up her hands. Merren had a strong urge to sit down.

  ‘Okay.’ Olivia turned to her. ‘Merren sweetheart, things like this go the way they will.’ She smoothed her hands down her apron. ‘Like everything else, in times like these, you just have to be aware of the Inescapable Fact.’

  Merren walked over to the table and sat down. She nodded. The Inescapable Fact had been drilled into her since she was a child. She still considered it at every turn.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I know, Mum.’

  ‘Everything’s a risk. You know that.’ Olivia sighed.

  ‘It’s really early days. I mean, really early days.’ Merren turned away from her mother’s gaze, shivering at the memory of the kiss she’d almost shared with Bianca. It had been so close. Just a breath away. ‘Yesterday was only the second time I’d met her.’

  ‘It can only take the once, sometimes,’ Naomi cut in. ‘George and I were like that.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘First time I walked into my cousin’s house and saw him, my heart did a gallop. I was smitten from the moment I clapped eyes on him.’

  ‘Naomi, you’re not helping matters,’ Olivia said. ‘Tell me that you wouldn’t be just a little concerned if things were different – if Merren was interested in a man who was sixteen years older than her?’

  Merren groaned and lowered her face to her hands. ‘Mum,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s not like that.’