Page 107 of Kiwi Gold
Drake looked uncomfortable for once. “Well, no. I thought Laila would do it.”
I said, “She did. The girls were ill for the past couple of days, though. Stomach bug. Over it now, though.” That would be the perfect conclusion to this day, if they passed the bot on to all their … relations.
“And you slept in bed with them,” Drake said, his tone flat. “I’d like an explanation, please.”
“Honestly, Lachlan,” Larissa said. “What were you thinking? That’s confusing for children, when you rush into a physical relationship with their mother like that. At least don’tshowthem.”
I had to laugh, because the one thing I most definitely wasnotdoing was rushing into a physical relationship, and now,everybodystiffened up. Everybody except Lexi, who said, “Kids can adapt better than you realize, Larissa. Stick up your bum much?”
“Lexi,” Mum said, her tone carrying a clear warning. “And Larissa,” she added, and Larissa lost some of her smug expression. “What Lachlan does is his business. But honestly, darling,” she told me, seemingly unconcerned about contradicting herself,“wasthat a good idea?”
“Exactly what I’d like to know,” Drake said.
“If they’re both up and down spewing their guts out every fifteen minutes all night long,” I said, “and Laila looks as fragile as a … a sheet of paper, and I can give her a bit of help? How is that a bad idea?”
“You don’t evenlikekids,” Lark said. “Other than mine.”
“How?” I asked. “How do I not like kids?”
“Sin-gle,” Lexi muttered in a singsong tone.
“You don’t babysit,” Lark said. “Well, not often.”
“This isn’t about me,” I said, feeling as frustrated as a bear with his head caught in a jar. “I’m the one person this day is not about. Stop talking about me, please. So what are we calling ourselves here? Not Grandad, obviously, or Auntie, or Uncle.” That was for the benefit of Lark’s husband, Ewan, who was lingering around the edges like he was about to volunteer to go help the kids in the playroom—I couldn’t blame him—and Larissa’s husband, Frank, who was standing apart from everybody else, actually out of the room on the patio, looking at his phone. He was wearing a golf shirt and trousers that I’d swear he’d ironed, instead of shorts and a T-shirt like any self-respecting Kiwi bloke at a barbecue. Frank annoyed the hell out of me. I always wanted to punch him. Unfortunately, he was my brother-in-law.
And I’d thought my family was complicatedbefore.
“Fine,” Drake said. “If you don’t want that, fine.” Meaning the “Grandad” bit, apparently. It wasn’t fine, I could tell.
“Torsten,” my mum said, “it’s not that. It’s early days, that’s all. I appreciate that you want to be involved, but—”
“But you don’t need a man around the place,” Drake said. “Got it.”
My mum said, “Not quite that. Not really.” She looked at him, and he looked at her, and I’d swear I saw electricity.
Wait. No. If there was one way to make this more difficult, that was it.
I seemed to be the only one who saw it, though, because Lark said, “So. To clarify. We’re all first names here, with the kids? No titles? We should talk about frequency of visits, too, and ground rules.” I could swear she had an agenda for this meeting. She was practically ticking off the bullet points.
“For now, first names,” my mum said, composed again. Drake, though, looked rattled.
Larissa said, still stiff, “Maybe we should get the food on the table.” Not her place to say, if Drake was hosting, but he stood up readily enough and handed Thea back to her mum, which made her instantly start squirming and reaching for him again, and screwing up her face to cry.
Lark said, “Ewan. Ewan! Come get the baby, would you? I need to help with the food.” He did, probably glad to have something to do.
Lexi said, “I’m guessing we’re not having alcohol at this festivity? I feel that this situation would be improved by alcohol.”
Drake said, “No alcohol. Lemonade in the fridge. Muslim home, eh.” Not stiffly, though. “You’ll have to get high on life,” he told Lexi. “I reckon you can do it.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to, won’t I? Somebody really ought to be filming this, though. Surprised you haven’t called around to the networks, Mum, because this is reality TV gold. It’d be novel, you must admit. Call it ‘Instant Family,’ or something. Oh, wait. That’s Lachlan.”
I ignored that and said, “I’ll go find Laila. OK with you, Torsten?” Possibly the first time I’d ever addressed him by his first name, but I couldn’t really wander all over his house without permission, and hewasmy … whatever.
“Yeh,” he said, then walked with me to point the way. It wasn’t simple. It was that kind of house.
I said, “Nice place.”
He said, “My wife designed it.”
