Read Online Lessons From Ducks by Tammy Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tammy Robinson
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sod. How many hours do I slave away to prepare you extremely delicious – also nutritiously designed to meet a growing child’s needs, I might add - meals.”
“Nutritious? Dad do you even know what a carrot looks like? Or an apple?”
“Oh ha ha. You see the cheek I have to put up with?” he said to Anna, shaking his head in mock upset.
“What would you have been having for tea tonight if you weren’t here?” she asked him.
Matt open his mouth then abruptly shut it again. He looked down and mumbled.
“Sorry? Couldn’t quite catch that.”
Matt sighed, knowing the game was up. “Fish and Chips,” he admitted. Then over loud laughter from the other two he defended himself, “but he loves Fish and Chips! And fish is healthy.”
“Not when it’s under a thick inch of batter it’s not.”
After they ate, despite Anna’s insistence that she needed no help, the three of them washed and dried and put away the dishes, and then Anna served them creamy Hokey Pokey ice cream in little blue bowls and they ate it at the table while they played a round of last card with a deck of cards Anna had pulled from a drawer.
The only weird part of the evening was when he had found the toy box in the lounge, and asked Anna if she had a son too and if so where was he? She had gone a funny colour again then, like earlier in the playground, and she had turned away and pretended she hadn’t heard him. He would have repeated himself but a warning look from his father made him close his mouth instead.
Grownups, he had shrugged it off.
The taxi driver was playing some quiet ethnic music, Indian perhaps. It was gentle and soothing like a lullaby.
“Dad?” he murmured, before he let sleep claim him.
“Hmm?”
“Can we get a duck?”
“We’ll see,” his dad said, which Oscar knew more than likely meant no. Oh well, it had been worth a try. He thought about the ducks, smiled, and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter seven
It was odd. Nothing physical had been altered in her house by Matt and Oscar’s visit, but something less tangible, something atmospheric, had. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but it was if something had been awakened, a memory perhaps, of echoed conversations and the sound of laughter. These were sounds that, until last night, the house had not heard in some time, but the memory of them was still there, in the dust on the skirting boards and the cobwebs in the corners. Traces remained.
Apart from filling in the hours before bedtime, her previous night’s unexpected visitors failed to impact on her life in any other way. She still showered with her shower cap on, slept half the night in one room and dozed fitfully in the other room. She still showered – without the shower cap – and selected an identical grey and green shirt and skirt to the ones she had worn yesterday from the wardrobe.
The moment the taxi had turned the corner and disappeared and her waving hand had dropped back against her side, she had allowed herself a moment to dwell on the events of the evening, before turning and heading back inside the house, banishing them both from her thoughts for good. She could not allow herself to fixate on a stranger’s child and any appearance coincidences between him and Ben that made the hairs along the length of her arm stand erect. Too much time had passed and she’d worked too hard at a semblance of closure.
She did allow herself a moment to be pleased that she had not forgotten how to entertain guests, something she had once been reasonably renowned for. She still had the gift; she smiled, remembering Oscar’s pleasure with the food she had served him.
As Anna ate her breakfast in her bowl over the sink, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was observing her. Not in a sinister way, quite the opposite. The air felt expectant, eager, and desperate to please.
Like a puppy.
She turned and eyed the empty expanse of the room. “Don’t go thinking that
“Nutritious? Dad do you even know what a carrot looks like? Or an apple?”
“Oh ha ha. You see the cheek I have to put up with?” he said to Anna, shaking his head in mock upset.
“What would you have been having for tea tonight if you weren’t here?” she asked him.
Matt open his mouth then abruptly shut it again. He looked down and mumbled.
“Sorry? Couldn’t quite catch that.”
Matt sighed, knowing the game was up. “Fish and Chips,” he admitted. Then over loud laughter from the other two he defended himself, “but he loves Fish and Chips! And fish is healthy.”
“Not when it’s under a thick inch of batter it’s not.”
After they ate, despite Anna’s insistence that she needed no help, the three of them washed and dried and put away the dishes, and then Anna served them creamy Hokey Pokey ice cream in little blue bowls and they ate it at the table while they played a round of last card with a deck of cards Anna had pulled from a drawer.
The only weird part of the evening was when he had found the toy box in the lounge, and asked Anna if she had a son too and if so where was he? She had gone a funny colour again then, like earlier in the playground, and she had turned away and pretended she hadn’t heard him. He would have repeated himself but a warning look from his father made him close his mouth instead.
Grownups, he had shrugged it off.
The taxi driver was playing some quiet ethnic music, Indian perhaps. It was gentle and soothing like a lullaby.
“Dad?” he murmured, before he let sleep claim him.
“Hmm?”
“Can we get a duck?”
“We’ll see,” his dad said, which Oscar knew more than likely meant no. Oh well, it had been worth a try. He thought about the ducks, smiled, and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter seven
It was odd. Nothing physical had been altered in her house by Matt and Oscar’s visit, but something less tangible, something atmospheric, had. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but it was if something had been awakened, a memory perhaps, of echoed conversations and the sound of laughter. These were sounds that, until last night, the house had not heard in some time, but the memory of them was still there, in the dust on the skirting boards and the cobwebs in the corners. Traces remained.
Apart from filling in the hours before bedtime, her previous night’s unexpected visitors failed to impact on her life in any other way. She still showered with her shower cap on, slept half the night in one room and dozed fitfully in the other room. She still showered – without the shower cap – and selected an identical grey and green shirt and skirt to the ones she had worn yesterday from the wardrobe.
The moment the taxi had turned the corner and disappeared and her waving hand had dropped back against her side, she had allowed herself a moment to dwell on the events of the evening, before turning and heading back inside the house, banishing them both from her thoughts for good. She could not allow herself to fixate on a stranger’s child and any appearance coincidences between him and Ben that made the hairs along the length of her arm stand erect. Too much time had passed and she’d worked too hard at a semblance of closure.
She did allow herself a moment to be pleased that she had not forgotten how to entertain guests, something she had once been reasonably renowned for. She still had the gift; she smiled, remembering Oscar’s pleasure with the food she had served him.
As Anna ate her breakfast in her bowl over the sink, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was observing her. Not in a sinister way, quite the opposite. The air felt expectant, eager, and desperate to please.
Like a puppy.
She turned and eyed the empty expanse of the room. “Don’t go thinking that
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