Page 12 of King of Hearts

Consequently, often, it was just Queeny and I. She made her infamous slices while I nagged to lick the chocolate from the bowl. She took me to work with her while she did her eight-hour shift in the bakehouse at the local grocers and I ate crisps and skimmed magazines I had no business reading. She did yoga exercises in the living room while I sat, book in hand, asking her what the more difficult words meant and if I could start a babysitting service like my favourite characters.

I never begrudged Dad for taking a backseat in my upbringing – he did the best he could under the circumstances – in the same way I never needed to mourn my mother so deeply – because Nan was everything I needed. She was my mother, grandparent, taxi driver, counsellor, chef, cleaner, confidante and as I have gotten older, the asker of unwanted questions and giver of unwarranted advice.

“Queeny! It smells bloody divine in here, is that your pumpkin soup?” Leaving my shoes at the door next to Marlee’s sandals, we made our way into the small kitchen. Dad was reading the newspaper at the table, a beer in hand, and Nan was at the stove, stirring a large pot of what I hoped was her soup.

“Come give your Nan a hand, would you?” Queeny answered, using her head to gesture me over.

Always happy to help, I dropped my purse onto the table and took the ladle. Not one for pleasantries, she gave me a quick pat on the hip and began scurrying to the fridge for whatever it was she needed. The woman was a workhorse. For as long as I could remember she worked and when she did finally retire, she cooked, cleaned, tended to her garden and cared for Dad. She was the matriarch and gem of our family and as such, had earned the title of Queen from both Dad and I.

“Hey Pete, how are you?” Marlee asked after greeting Queeny with a kiss on the cheek. We had been friends since our first week of high school when we unintentionally ended up sitting together after both forging notes to get out of sport. So, she was as comfortable in my family home as I was, and Dad and Nan adored her as if she were their own.

“Good, love. How are those kids treating you?”

I smiled to myself, the comfort of being here with my favourites soothing away the aches. There was something about the familiarity of the smells and predictability of my family that made me feel grounded in a way I did nowhere else. I continued to stir while Marlee told Dad all about her job at the local drop-in centre. Marls had a huge heart and she spent most of her life helping others. It wasn’t always an easy place to work, with the trauma and baggage many of the kids brought with them, but she loved being able to provide some stability, even if it only was between Monday and Friday.

“What about you, Bellsy, how is that job of yours?” He ran his hand over his now greying buzz cut.

Ever since I was little, Dad called me Bellsy after a horse he placed money on in some big race. I chose the horse because it reminded me of my own name and when Dad scored himself a nice little pot of money, the nickname started and he’d called me nothing else since. Something which always made me smile.

Like Nan, he didn’t beat around the bush, calling a spade a spade. He was a simple man and spent most of his time watching various races, sports or a good old fashionedwhodunnit. I often wondered if he was lonely but if I ever asked he always said he was fine with the cards he was dealt and if he wasn’t here, who would be eating all the food Nan made.

“Yeah, good Dad. Still editing. Same old.” Nan pushed me out of the way, gesturing for me to go sit while she dished the bowls.

He nodded. “That boss of yours still giving you grief?” He skimmed the paper as he spoke, not known to show he was actively listening, but I knew he was more aware than he appeared. When I didn’t respond, he glanced up over the glasses perched on the end of his nose and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Darren is fine.” I answered, rolling my eyes. “Still a total dick but I’m sure it could be worse. I just want the senior editor position he keeps saying will be advertised soon. It’s better money and means I will have more influence over what I work on and which stories we publish.”

Marlee, who had moved to help Nan get the drinks for dinner, came and sat back down, a can of Pepsi Max held out for me and one for herself.

“Tell him about your big interview.” She grinned as the sound of her can opening sliced through the air.

“Interview? I didn’t think you did those?” Nan said, placing a steaming hot bowl of pumpkin soup down in front of me. My stomach rumbled as I reached for the sour cream.

“I don’t,” I grumbled. “But there was no one else and now I’m being forced.” Grabbing a bread roll, I ripped the top off and shoved it into my mouth, speaking around my food. “Surely there was someone else, right? Apparently not, so Darren demanded I do it.”

“Finish your food, Arnabelle. Where are your manners?” Queeny interjected and Marlee nodded with mock judgement as if she too was horrified by my lack of decorum. Narrowing my eyes at the mischievous look on her face, I knew before she even opened her mouth, what she was about to say.

“Her interview is with Andy Gloss, Pete.” She said smugly, grabbing Dad’s full attention.

“Captain of the Hearts? That Andy Gloss?” He clarified and I nodded, still chewing my roll overtly, not wanting another sledge from Nan. She was tiny in stature but you didn’t want to be on her bad side and she took table manners very seriously. Her pale blue eyes watched me like a hawk from behind her own glasses, waiting for an opportunity to chip me for something else.

“Yes!” Marlee squeaked and began fanning herself with her hand. “She doesn’t even realise how exciting this is.She went to his house.” I drilled her with a glare, causing her to turn away, stifling her laugh.

“His house? Surely that is not normal practice, Bells. Bet he lives in some swanky building in the city?” Dad looked impressed as he closed the newspaper, suddenly interested and his eyes flicked from Marlee to me. Fantastic. This was now a topic which was not going away anytime soon.

“He does. But I signed a non-disclosure so I can’t actually tell you anything.”

“I’ve seen him on television. I would put my slippers underhisbed.” Nan said, causing Marlee to erupt into a fit of giggles while Dad choked on his beer.

“Queeny!” I gasped, also fighting back a laugh. “I’ll be sure to tell himmy Nanis interested in a sleepover.”

Nan grinned and Dad quickly went back to reading his paper, happy to now ignore the rest of the conversation.

We chatted through dinner and dessert and when Dad finally excused himself to go and watch television, Nan took the opportunity to pounce on Marlee. She had a sixth sense and often knew things before you even knew them yourself, which was incredibly frustrating. The memory of Marls and I as fourteen-year-olds, trying to sneak some of Dad’s beers resurfaced. We hadn’t even made it back to my room and there she was, those detective eyes all knowing. For a while, I was convinced shewasomniscient and often tried testing and tricking her. She passed every single time. Only reinforcing my theory.

“Okay, love. You’re seeing someone, now spill.” My head whipped towards Marlee whose cheeks were flaming red and I felt my jaw drop.

“Wait. What?” I gawked.

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