Page 119 of Just Come Over
“Well," she said, “ditto.”
At ten o’clock Saturday morning, Zora arrived at Kid Republic in Newmarket with Casey to find her mum already inside, flipping through hangers on racks with the air of a woman on a mission. Which she probably was.
“Morning, darling,” she said when she saw Zora, giving her a kiss like the confrontation in the toilets hadn’t happened, or the news the day before, either. “And you must be Casey. Aren’t you cute. I’m Zora’s mum.”
She held out her hand, and Casey shook it. Shedidlook cute, Zora thought, in her black-and-white-striped top, the gray leggings with pink butterflies, and her sparkly silver trainers. Zora had pulled her hair back into twin French plaits fastened with pink bows, too. Leaving no stone unturned, she hoped. Her mum could criticize Zora’s looks. Casey didn’t need to hear it.
Casey, planted solidly as usual, said, “I like your pretty shoes and your shirt. You look very nice and very fancy.” Zora’s mum was, in fact, wearing black patent-leather ballerina flats studded around the edges with gold, a side-wrapped top in a purple print, and dark skinny jeans. Her patent-leather purse matched her shoes. Naturally. It also had a deep-purple scarf tied around the strap that coordinated with her top. Evidently, that was a thing.
Well, Zora was wearing jeans, too. It was a jeans occasion. You didn’t dress up to buy kids’ clothes. At least, she didn’t.
“Thank you, darling,” Zora’s mum said. She glanced pointedly at Zora.
What? Oh. Introductions. Zora said, “My mum’s name is Mrs. Allen, Casey.”
“Oh, that sounds so formal,” her mum said. “I think you should call me Nana Tania, don’t you? That’s more comfortable, surely.”
“OK,” Casey said.
“I’ll tell you a secret.” Her mum was still talking to Casey, probably because Zora was insufficiently nice and fancy. “I look nice because I make an effort with my appearance.” Zora didnotroll her eyes. “Spending twenty minutes on your face and a few minutes to get your hair right in the morning makes all the difference.”
“Oh.” Casey considered that. “What are you supposed to do to your face? I just wash it.”
“You don’t have to do it yet,” her not-Nana said. “Not until you’re in high school. For now, keeping your hair and clothes pretty and neat is enough. Zora’s done a good job with that, anyway.”
“My dad does my hair, usually,” Casey said. “When he’s home he does. He used to be very bad at it, and he made lumps when he did braids, except they’re called plaits here. But now he doesn’t. He says you just have to practice and be disciplined, and you get better. He thinks it’s most important to practice and be disciplined at rugby, though, not hair. And maybe school, because he does reading with me, and he’s helping me do the big words. He had to practice being a dad, too, because he didn’t know how, but he did practice, and now he’s good at being a dad. I never had a dad before. I only had a mommy, but she died, so now I have him instead.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Zora’s mum said, falling straight into Casey’s big eyes and charm like the granddaughter-less sucker she was. “You’re just precious, aren’t you?”
“No,” Casey said, “because precious is like jewels, and I’m not a jewel. My dad bought me a pink suitcase that’s like a diamond, though. It’s a princess suitcase. It’s kind of precious.”
Zora had never heard Casey call Rhys “Dad.” She hadn’t thought the girl was there yet. Casey was like Rhys, though. She rose to the occasion.
“Well, he’s right about one thing,” her mum said. “About practice and discipline. That’s what I tell Zora about her exercise regimen. Now, let’s get shopping, shall we? Here.” She held up navy track pants with a funky, faded sea-star print, and a pair of jeans embroidered with roses. “I found these before you came. What do you think? So fresh and comfy. Let’s find you some more long-sleeved tops to go with them. An oversized hoodie, maybe. That’s a cute look, and so practical. Look at this one, the baby fawn lying in the midst of the red mushrooms. It’s perfect, wouldn’t you say?”
Zora considered asking if she should just go for a coffee, since she was so clearly surplus to requirements. Oh, well. She needed to shop for Isaiah anyway.
“Oh,” Casey breathed, “he’s so, so aborable. He looks so happy and sleepy. Ilovehim.” In fact, she had hold of the sleeve and was hugging the hoodie to her. “I think you must be a very good shopper.”
“I am,” Tania said. “It’s my gift.” She waved to a clerk. “Could you put these in a fitting room, please? We’ll be here a while.”
They were. Eventually, though, they had lunch in a café, and Casey told Nana Tania about her bunnies and her school and the jungle trees at Rhys’s house, and then they shopped some more, for an anorak and a fleece jacket and gumboots with flowers on.
They’d finished up and were headed to the carpark when Zora’s mum said, “It’s lovely to be able to buy really nice things, isn’t it? You don’t do this for yourself or Isaiah nearly enough.”
Casey had dashed ahead of them, fortunately, and was looking in the window of a toy store, so Zora said, “That’s because I haven’t been able to afford it. I’m using Rhys’s credit card for this, though, and hecanafford it. Just like he can afford gorgeous pearls from Mikimoto. Do you still think he’s a big mistake?”
“I never said he was a mistake,” her mother said serenely, which just about made Zora drop her shopping bags. “Said it would be a challenge, didn’t I.”
Well, no,Zora thought,I’m pretty sure you said he was a mistake.She didn’t say it, though. She said, “Actually, he’s not even that. He’s pretty wonderful, Mum.”
“Well, he’s doing a good job with that little girl,” her mother said. “You can tell from the child, I always say.” She caught up to Casey, who was checking out the baby doll display in the shop window, and asked, “Do you like dolls, then, love? I always liked them best. Dolls never go out of fashion, do they?”
“Yes,” Casey said, “except I already have one, so I don’t need another one. I just like to look at them.”
“Having a doll collection can be lovely, though.”
“No,” Casey said, “because Moana would be sad if I had another doll. She wants to be special. Bunnies are nice because they’re real, but you can’t make them go where you want them to, the way you can do with dolls. You can pretend better with dolls, and I like pretending best.”
