cigarette from the pack. He didn’t speak until he’d lit it and breathed deeply. “It’s a beaut gift, Robbie. Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t have asked about Mum.”
Dad breathed out smoke in a steady stream. “It’s complicated, Robbie.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Dad, I’d like to …”
He turned to look at me, his green eyes piercing. “Leave it, Robbie. One day, when you’re old enough to understand, we’ll talk, but until then, you won’t mention her or her family again, especially in front of your grandmother. Understand?”
Thoughts tumbled and swirled like autumn leaves in an eddy of wind.
What did my mum have to do with Nan?
“Your gifts are in your room,” continued Dad. “Except for your swimmers. Your grandmother took those back. Punishment for the statue.”
“But bloody Bluey broke it.” I folded my arms.
“I know.” Dad picked up the book, cigarette smouldering between the fingers of his left hand.
Dismissed.
Again.
“Good morning, Nan,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“Good afternoon.” Nan stood at the kitchen bench, measuring flour into a sifter.
I glanced at the clock above the kitchen door. Five past eight.
Teeth gritted, I took the carton of cornflakes from the cupboard and the milk bottle from the fridge. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d decided my only hope of being allowed to meet Keith at the river was to take the blame and beg forgiveness for breaking that horrible figurine.
“Nan, about yesterday. I’m sorry about your statue.”
Nan banged the side of the tin sifter and continued turning the handle, this time with more vigour.
“I’ll pay to have it fixed. Or buy you a new one.”
“A new one won’t hold the same memories, will it?” Each word was sharp and hard. “You ruined Christmas, Robert.”
Another major sin she could add to the list I swear she kept by her bed. “Nan, I feel terrible, really.”
“What do you feel terrible about, Robbie?” asked Dad, shuffling into the kitchen, face thick with sleep.
“Yesterday.” I poured milk over the cereal in my bowl.
He took the kettle and filled it. “Mum, you’ve taken back his Christmas gift, isn’t that enough?”
Nan glared.
Dad slammed the kettle on the stove. “Right. Robbie, what are your plans for today?”
“My jobs.” A worm of panic squirmed in my gut. Was he going to stop me going to the river? It already felt like Keith was drifting away from me. If I didn’t turn up, well … I had to. “After that, Keith and I are meeting at the river.”
“Well, you had better do your jobs properly,” said Dad.
Nan opened her mouth to speak, but Dad spoke over her. “And strip all three beds.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“There you are, Mum. Punished.” He shot me a look over his shoulder. “Hurry with your breakfast, Robbie, or you won’t make the river before dark.”
I shovelled cornflakes into my mouth.
Nan slammed the rolling pin into the sink.
CHAPTER 18
I dumped the last of the lawn clippings into the trailer beside Nan’s veggie patch and brushed down my pants.
Lawns mowed. Clippings raked and dumped. Paths swept.
Straw changed in the chook pen.
Cobwebs and dirt brushed from the house, even the eaves.
Leaves and other debris dropped by the evil gum tree cleaned up.
Beds stripped and sheets in the laundry.
Free.
In my room, I changed into a T-shirt and my old swimming shorts. They were faded and too tight, but what choice did I have? I tossed a towel over my shoulders and hurried to the back door.
Nan stood in the kitchen doorway, scarf over her rollered hair. “Where are you going?”
“To the river with Keith.”
“Have you finished all your jobs?”
“I think so, Nan.”
“To my satisfaction?”
“Yes, Nan.”
She pressed her lips together. I held my breath, for real, ready for a string of new chores.
“Well, off you go then.” She shooed me with her hand as though I was one of the chooks.
I bolted outside, only just
“I shouldn’t have asked about Mum.”
Dad breathed out smoke in a steady stream. “It’s complicated, Robbie.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Dad, I’d like to …”
He turned to look at me, his green eyes piercing. “Leave it, Robbie. One day, when you’re old enough to understand, we’ll talk, but until then, you won’t mention her or her family again, especially in front of your grandmother. Understand?”
Thoughts tumbled and swirled like autumn leaves in an eddy of wind.
What did my mum have to do with Nan?
“Your gifts are in your room,” continued Dad. “Except for your swimmers. Your grandmother took those back. Punishment for the statue.”
“But bloody Bluey broke it.” I folded my arms.
“I know.” Dad picked up the book, cigarette smouldering between the fingers of his left hand.
Dismissed.
Again.
“Good morning, Nan,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“Good afternoon.” Nan stood at the kitchen bench, measuring flour into a sifter.
I glanced at the clock above the kitchen door. Five past eight.
Teeth gritted, I took the carton of cornflakes from the cupboard and the milk bottle from the fridge. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d decided my only hope of being allowed to meet Keith at the river was to take the blame and beg forgiveness for breaking that horrible figurine.
“Nan, about yesterday. I’m sorry about your statue.”
Nan banged the side of the tin sifter and continued turning the handle, this time with more vigour.
“I’ll pay to have it fixed. Or buy you a new one.”
“A new one won’t hold the same memories, will it?” Each word was sharp and hard. “You ruined Christmas, Robert.”
Another major sin she could add to the list I swear she kept by her bed. “Nan, I feel terrible, really.”
“What do you feel terrible about, Robbie?” asked Dad, shuffling into the kitchen, face thick with sleep.
“Yesterday.” I poured milk over the cereal in my bowl.
He took the kettle and filled it. “Mum, you’ve taken back his Christmas gift, isn’t that enough?”
Nan glared.
Dad slammed the kettle on the stove. “Right. Robbie, what are your plans for today?”
“My jobs.” A worm of panic squirmed in my gut. Was he going to stop me going to the river? It already felt like Keith was drifting away from me. If I didn’t turn up, well … I had to. “After that, Keith and I are meeting at the river.”
“Well, you had better do your jobs properly,” said Dad.
Nan opened her mouth to speak, but Dad spoke over her. “And strip all three beds.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“There you are, Mum. Punished.” He shot me a look over his shoulder. “Hurry with your breakfast, Robbie, or you won’t make the river before dark.”
I shovelled cornflakes into my mouth.
Nan slammed the rolling pin into the sink.
CHAPTER 18
I dumped the last of the lawn clippings into the trailer beside Nan’s veggie patch and brushed down my pants.
Lawns mowed. Clippings raked and dumped. Paths swept.
Straw changed in the chook pen.
Cobwebs and dirt brushed from the house, even the eaves.
Leaves and other debris dropped by the evil gum tree cleaned up.
Beds stripped and sheets in the laundry.
Free.
In my room, I changed into a T-shirt and my old swimming shorts. They were faded and too tight, but what choice did I have? I tossed a towel over my shoulders and hurried to the back door.
Nan stood in the kitchen doorway, scarf over her rollered hair. “Where are you going?”
“To the river with Keith.”
“Have you finished all your jobs?”
“I think so, Nan.”
“To my satisfaction?”
“Yes, Nan.”
She pressed her lips together. I held my breath, for real, ready for a string of new chores.
“Well, off you go then.” She shooed me with her hand as though I was one of the chooks.
I bolted outside, only just
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