Page 56 of Kiwi Gold
He said, “How’re ya goin’, Laila.” And hitched up his trousers, looking uneasy.
Oh, no. Complaint coming.
“Not bad,” I said. “You?” I was only carrying three grocery bags, but they were heavy. Milk and meat. Rice, pasta, canned tomatoes and chickpeas, vegies and fruit. Food for the week, all of it packed high, because the girls had done the bagging, and they’d had a contest to see who could fit the most in.
“Can’t complain,” he said, then paused, rubbed the side of his face, and … well, paused again. Obviously, hecouldcomplain. Finally, he went on. “Violet asked me to speak to you about the noise. About setting some quiet hours.”
“Oh.” I shifted the bags, thought, first,The old bat.And then,I have to live here, though. What do I do?“Come inside for a cup of tea,” I decided, and tried not to be tired. Hard to be hostile over a cup of tea, surely, and Trevor didn’t want to be hostile anyway. Definitely a cup of tea.
“I won’t say no,” he said, looking relieved.
More movement, and a pair of athletic legs coming down the side stairs, until the whole body came into view. Jeans. T-shirt. Muscles. Et cetera. Lachlan, whoalsosaw us and came over. Frowning, which was odd.
“You’re going to strain that foot,” he said, his voice abrupt, “carrying all that. Here, I’ve got it.”
“I’m fine,” I said, hanging onto the bags.
“You’re not fine,” he said. “I bandaged that foot, remember? I saw what it looked like, and I doubt it’s any better now.” And when I still hesitated, “It’s carrying a few bags, not an indecent proposal.”
Trevor looked interested, but all he said was, “Hurt yourself, did you? I thought you were moving a bit oddly there. Here, let me help.”
He was only seventy-something, but none too steady on his pins. Now, I was going to kill the neighbor!
Amira, up on the steps, said, “Mummy, are you coming? Mum?”
I gave up and said, “Take these, then, Lachlan, because I have more to get in the car. And take care, because they’re heavy.”
“I’ll get the ones in the car,” he said, taking two of the bags and handing the lightest one off to Trevor in the sort of high-handed manner that some men do. Not men in my life, of course, but men with those sorts of … caretaking qualities. Or annoying qualities. “Go in,” he told me. “I’ve got this.”
I opened my mouth to say,I don’t think so,but he was already moving. Also, somebodyelsewas hurrying around the side of the house now. Violet, Trevor’s wife, with her unnaturally red hair, her lipstick creeping into the creases around her pinched lips like lava running downhill, and her brittle energy. She said, “Did Trevor speak to you, then?” NoHow’re ya goin’.NoLovely day,even.
Inside the house, Long John’s barking was getting louder. Yes, the timing was perfect. “Uh, not yet,” I said. “We were just going in for a cup of tea.”
“Mum,”Amira called. “Yasmin and me need to go inside and get Long John!”
Violet said, “When I was raisingmyson, we trained kids to wait quietly. Now, you go anywhere and it’s just whinge, whinge, whinge, all around you. Not to mention the babies wailing. If you take them to the supermarket after nap time, the way everybody used to know to do, and after their feed, they won’t be grizzling like that. Mums nowadays …”
I wasn’t listening. I was heading up the stairs, my foot protesting pretty loudly by this point, and Lachlan was coming up the pavement with a bag in each hand and a bulky item under each arm. A jumbo pack of toilet tissue, and an economy-sized pack of menstrual pads.
Extra Long Overnight Size,the packet proclaimed from within a bright yellow starburst.Heavy Absorbency.Also,With Patented Leak Lock!Plus an image of the pad splashed across the front, in case you couldn’t read.
Yes, I was just that kind of romantic siren, in my long shorts, my baggy tee, my huge knot of hair, and my elastic bandage, with the added bonus of my menstrual products. Good thing I hadn’t needed treating for a yeast infection, because the box would’ve been bound to tumble out of the bag and land face-up on the pavement in front of Lachlan.
Also, yes, I did wonder, for a fleeting second, whether I was being punished for dating outside of marriage, wearing a transparent dress, disobeying my father, and drinking alcohol, that abomination of Satan’s handiwork, not to mention my various other sins. If so, though, what would be happening to my dad, who’d committed adultery atleastfour times over, if you counted per quadruplet? Would he be taken unwittingly to a strip club by his client tonight and offered a lap dance? Be goaded into a drinking contest? Recruited for a threesome?
I got my key in the door, though, because what were you going to do, and the girls tumbled in as Long John tumbled out. He dashed around them first, licking their hands as they shrieked with excitement, then bounded over to Lachlan, who was halfway up the stairs, and thrust his nose between his legs. Not actually in his crotch, but not far south of it, either. His tail was going back and forth like a metronome, banging against Violet’s leg. She uttered an exclamation and retreated hastily down the stairs, upon which Long John decided to run down and say hello toher.
She shrieked louder than the girls, put her hands up high in the way some people do, as if the dog would bite them otherwise, and said, “Get him away from me! Vicious!”
I wasn’t laughing. Iwasn’t.I was shouting, “Long John Silver! Come!”
He looked at me, head on one side, quizzical, like the gangster in a film saying, “You talkin’ to me?”
I said, making my tone as severe as I could manage,“Come.”Upon which his ears flattened a bit, and he … well, he didn’t exactlycome,but he trotted up the stairs with his comical, off-center gait, then headed inside again, where he dashed into the kitchen to find the girls, presumably to sit in front of the treat cupboard as if he’d done his job extremely well and was waiting for his reward. Long John did have a tendency to think he deserved a treat during any kitchen occupancy, and Yasmin was probably in there giving it to him, “because he’s probably sad, and wishes he still had all his legs.” Our dog discipline might sometimes not be up to standard.
“I’m so sorry,” I told Violet, who was bringing up the rear in our little cavalcade, stepping over the threshold in a gingerly fashion as if she might be attacked at any moment. “He’s a bit excited today. I’ve been, uh, gone more than usual lately, but it’s really just when you first get home. He settles down after a minute, and anyway, he won’t touch you, I promise. He’ll just stand close and wag.” I got my shoes off, which felt better, but not that much better. Ouch.
“He has to go,” Violet said. “That’s not safe, having him rush at people like that.”
