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Authors: Tammy Robinson
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Jack.
Jack’s head appeared back in the doorway. “Oh he’ll be fine,” he said. “He won’t go anywhere.”
“Can I take him fishing with me?” Willow asked.
“No,” said Maggie.
“Sure,” said Jack at the same time.
“She’ll be gone for hours.”
“I don’t mind hanging out here until she’s back. That is, if it’s ok with you?”
“No, it’s not .”
“Of course it is, you can stay for lunch,” said Dot, at the same time.
“Know anything about quad bikes?” Ray, who had appeared back in the doorway beside Jack to see what the holdup was, asked. “It’s started making a funny clunking noise.”
“ Not a thing,” Jack said, “but I’ll take a look.”
‘I’ll whip us up some cheese scones and a quiche,” decided Dot. “And maybe a cake if there’s time.”
“Have you lot lost your mind?” asked Maggie. “We know nothing about this man.”
Her parents frowned at her.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t extend our hospitality,” said Dot.
“Don’t be so rude,” Ray said to Maggie. Then he turned to Jack. “Sorry about that,” he said, “we raised her with better manners but the older she gets the more she seems to forget them.”
“ Dad .”
“What? It’s true.”
“You guys are weird. I’m off,” said Willow. She slapped her hand on her thigh and whistled at Rufus, who looked to Jack for consent.
“Off you go,” he gave it.
The dog seemed reluctant but nevertheless he trotted over to Willow’s side and headed off with her down the driveway.
“Be careful,” Maggie called.
“Don’t forget to catch me a big one,” Ray called.
Willow waved back over her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I don’t kn ow what you two are playing at but you can just it stop right now,” Maggie frowned, turning to where her mother had been standing twenty seconds before. She was gone, and Jack and her father had disappeared back inside the house. She was alone in the driveway talking to herself. She kicked a pebble viciously then flinched as it bounced off the front of the house, narrowly missing a window.
“I’ve got to stop kicking things,” she sighed to herself, heading into the house. She dumped the coat in the laundry to be washed later. There was no sign of her father or Jack, but her mother was in the kitchen measuring flour out onto a pair of old green kitchen scales and humming happily to herself.
“Can I add some hemlock to that mixture?” muttered Maggie, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table and leaving without waiting for her mother to answer. She headed to the room she had transformed into her little shop at the back of the house. As well as the internal entry it had its own external door, so that customers didn’t traipse through the house. Opening the door she stepped inside and closed it behind her, and immediately she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She took a deep breath and shook her arms out, twinkling her fingers, shaking the stress from her body.
“Much better,” she said then she took a big bite from her apple, enjoying the loud sound of the crunch echoing in the quiet solitude of her room. She walked over to the small stereo in one corner and flicked the on switch. It was set to the local radio station, to Willow’s disgust, as, according to her, it played a selection of ‘ancient’ and ‘uncool’ songs. However Maggie enjoyed them, and humming along to the one that was currently playing she walked over to the tall bench she used as her counter. It came up to just above her waist and was heavy, solid wood. She’d found it dumped in a skip outside someone’s house, and had became its proud owner after knocking on the front door and asking if she could have it. Sanded down and given a few coats of varnish, it had come up looking like she’d paid thousands of dollars for it. The bags with the unsold soaps from last night’s markets were on the counter and she started to unpack them, stopping only every now and
Jack’s head appeared back in the doorway. “Oh he’ll be fine,” he said. “He won’t go anywhere.”
“Can I take him fishing with me?” Willow asked.
“No,” said Maggie.
“Sure,” said Jack at the same time.
“She’ll be gone for hours.”
“I don’t mind hanging out here until she’s back. That is, if it’s ok with you?”
“No, it’s not .”
“Of course it is, you can stay for lunch,” said Dot, at the same time.
“Know anything about quad bikes?” Ray, who had appeared back in the doorway beside Jack to see what the holdup was, asked. “It’s started making a funny clunking noise.”
“ Not a thing,” Jack said, “but I’ll take a look.”
‘I’ll whip us up some cheese scones and a quiche,” decided Dot. “And maybe a cake if there’s time.”
“Have you lot lost your mind?” asked Maggie. “We know nothing about this man.”
Her parents frowned at her.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t extend our hospitality,” said Dot.
“Don’t be so rude,” Ray said to Maggie. Then he turned to Jack. “Sorry about that,” he said, “we raised her with better manners but the older she gets the more she seems to forget them.”
“ Dad .”
“What? It’s true.”
“You guys are weird. I’m off,” said Willow. She slapped her hand on her thigh and whistled at Rufus, who looked to Jack for consent.
“Off you go,” he gave it.
The dog seemed reluctant but nevertheless he trotted over to Willow’s side and headed off with her down the driveway.
“Be careful,” Maggie called.
“Don’t forget to catch me a big one,” Ray called.
Willow waved back over her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”
“I don’t kn ow what you two are playing at but you can just it stop right now,” Maggie frowned, turning to where her mother had been standing twenty seconds before. She was gone, and Jack and her father had disappeared back inside the house. She was alone in the driveway talking to herself. She kicked a pebble viciously then flinched as it bounced off the front of the house, narrowly missing a window.
“I’ve got to stop kicking things,” she sighed to herself, heading into the house. She dumped the coat in the laundry to be washed later. There was no sign of her father or Jack, but her mother was in the kitchen measuring flour out onto a pair of old green kitchen scales and humming happily to herself.
“Can I add some hemlock to that mixture?” muttered Maggie, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table and leaving without waiting for her mother to answer. She headed to the room she had transformed into her little shop at the back of the house. As well as the internal entry it had its own external door, so that customers didn’t traipse through the house. Opening the door she stepped inside and closed it behind her, and immediately she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She took a deep breath and shook her arms out, twinkling her fingers, shaking the stress from her body.
“Much better,” she said then she took a big bite from her apple, enjoying the loud sound of the crunch echoing in the quiet solitude of her room. She walked over to the small stereo in one corner and flicked the on switch. It was set to the local radio station, to Willow’s disgust, as, according to her, it played a selection of ‘ancient’ and ‘uncool’ songs. However Maggie enjoyed them, and humming along to the one that was currently playing she walked over to the tall bench she used as her counter. It came up to just above her waist and was heavy, solid wood. She’d found it dumped in a skip outside someone’s house, and had became its proud owner after knocking on the front door and asking if she could have it. Sanded down and given a few coats of varnish, it had come up looking like she’d paid thousands of dollars for it. The bags with the unsold soaps from last night’s markets were on the counter and she started to unpack them, stopping only every now and
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