Read Online Lessons From Ducks by Tammy Robinson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tammy Robinson
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his way to and from school, stick to main roads only. (More witnesses to any abduction attempts. )
- To cross the road if anyone remotely odd looking approached. (This often resulted in a complex zig zag journey home – never mind the fact he had to dodge traffic)
- To always pause before driveways in case a car backed out in a hurry
- Never to cross or walk behind parked cars (see above)
- Never engage in small talk with ANYONE he didn’t know. You never knew who was fresh out of the Looney bin or in need of a visit. (Concealed weapons were dangerous because they were just that; concealed.)
- Never go off on his own with anyone not first sanctioned by his mother
There were other, more odd ones- - never swim in jeans for example. It was at times like these he wished his mother would keep her fears to herself. She had made him overly cautious, untrusting. He wanted to be more like his father; open to new people and experiences.
“Coming?”
Something in the timbre of her voice told him he could trust her, so he took a deep breath, and then he took a step forward.
Later that night, in the taxi on the way back to the playground to fetch his father’s car, he found it a struggle to keep his eyes open. He fought as long as he could against gravity, kneeling up on the back seat to wave out of the rear window until the car reached the corner. It paused for a second under the yellow streetlight, indicator blinking, before turning. Anna’s house and street were swallowed up into inky black darkness.
“Right you,” his father said softly, “sit down and buckle yourself in properly.”
Oscar did as he was told, snuggling in against his father’s comforting side, finally surrendering to it and letting his so heavy eyelids close.
He thought back over the night and how much fun it had turned out to be. He was so glad he’d decided to trust Anna. When he’d followed her down the garden she had introduced him to Mrs Dudley, another duck, and her soon-to-be babies; although he’d had to take her word for that as the eggs were hidden safely underneath Mrs Dudley’s plump feathered body. Anna did try to coax her off the eggs to eat some bread but, perhaps due to his presence, she refused to budge.
“We’ll just have to leave her be,” Anna said eventually, “I’m sure she’ll eat something once we’re back inside.”
Then Anna had whipped up a quick meal of spaghetti bolognaise, but nothing like he’d ever associated with those words before. The one his father sometimes served up was mince in a watery tomato sauce. Served with packet noodles it was ok, but nothing to rave about. His mothers spaghetti bolognaise was even less amazing, due partly to her tendency to buy the cheapest mince available. Once you’ve seen that stuff raw, all white bits of tubing and weird, unspecified gristly bits, it was hard to enjoy it cooked. His mother didn’t use pasta sauce, just a tin of tomatoes and a squirt of tomato ketchup from a bottle. No, his past experiences with the dish had certainly left a lot to be desired.
Anna’s though? Wow. Her bolognaise was rich and thick and delicious. She’d diced onion and grated garlic into the oil first which added a flavour burst that surprised him. She served it with crusty bread to mop up the leftover sauce, grated cheese sprinkled over the bowl and a dollop of sour cream on top. The cheese had become gooey and the sour cream melted slightly, and it all blended together to become a creamy and delicious concoction that had made him close his eyes and moan with the pleasure of it. His father had been surprised as Oscar wasn’t normally one for getting excited over food.
“That’s because you never give me food as yummy as this,” Oscar said with his mouth full when his father pointed this out.
“Hey now, that’s not true,” Matt protested.
“Yes it is.”
“You ungrateful
- To cross the road if anyone remotely odd looking approached. (This often resulted in a complex zig zag journey home – never mind the fact he had to dodge traffic)
- To always pause before driveways in case a car backed out in a hurry
- Never to cross or walk behind parked cars (see above)
- Never engage in small talk with ANYONE he didn’t know. You never knew who was fresh out of the Looney bin or in need of a visit. (Concealed weapons were dangerous because they were just that; concealed.)
- Never go off on his own with anyone not first sanctioned by his mother
There were other, more odd ones- - never swim in jeans for example. It was at times like these he wished his mother would keep her fears to herself. She had made him overly cautious, untrusting. He wanted to be more like his father; open to new people and experiences.
“Coming?”
Something in the timbre of her voice told him he could trust her, so he took a deep breath, and then he took a step forward.
Later that night, in the taxi on the way back to the playground to fetch his father’s car, he found it a struggle to keep his eyes open. He fought as long as he could against gravity, kneeling up on the back seat to wave out of the rear window until the car reached the corner. It paused for a second under the yellow streetlight, indicator blinking, before turning. Anna’s house and street were swallowed up into inky black darkness.
“Right you,” his father said softly, “sit down and buckle yourself in properly.”
Oscar did as he was told, snuggling in against his father’s comforting side, finally surrendering to it and letting his so heavy eyelids close.
He thought back over the night and how much fun it had turned out to be. He was so glad he’d decided to trust Anna. When he’d followed her down the garden she had introduced him to Mrs Dudley, another duck, and her soon-to-be babies; although he’d had to take her word for that as the eggs were hidden safely underneath Mrs Dudley’s plump feathered body. Anna did try to coax her off the eggs to eat some bread but, perhaps due to his presence, she refused to budge.
“We’ll just have to leave her be,” Anna said eventually, “I’m sure she’ll eat something once we’re back inside.”
Then Anna had whipped up a quick meal of spaghetti bolognaise, but nothing like he’d ever associated with those words before. The one his father sometimes served up was mince in a watery tomato sauce. Served with packet noodles it was ok, but nothing to rave about. His mothers spaghetti bolognaise was even less amazing, due partly to her tendency to buy the cheapest mince available. Once you’ve seen that stuff raw, all white bits of tubing and weird, unspecified gristly bits, it was hard to enjoy it cooked. His mother didn’t use pasta sauce, just a tin of tomatoes and a squirt of tomato ketchup from a bottle. No, his past experiences with the dish had certainly left a lot to be desired.
Anna’s though? Wow. Her bolognaise was rich and thick and delicious. She’d diced onion and grated garlic into the oil first which added a flavour burst that surprised him. She served it with crusty bread to mop up the leftover sauce, grated cheese sprinkled over the bowl and a dollop of sour cream on top. The cheese had become gooey and the sour cream melted slightly, and it all blended together to become a creamy and delicious concoction that had made him close his eyes and moan with the pleasure of it. His father had been surprised as Oscar wasn’t normally one for getting excited over food.
“That’s because you never give me food as yummy as this,” Oscar said with his mouth full when his father pointed this out.
“Hey now, that’s not true,” Matt protested.
“Yes it is.”
“You ungrateful
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