Bottlebrush Creek Page 10

  ‘Rob mentioned you were stuck for ideas, so I couldn’t help myself. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Angie glanced at the healthy alternative she’d been happy with just two minutes ago, then back at the spectacular offering. It was the type of cake Claudia would remember when she was an adult, the kind Angie would have baked herself if she had an oven. There was no way she could turn it down, not after Rosa had gone to so much trouble. But somehow, even though she smiled and nodded, she couldn’t shake the twinge of resentment.

  Mum would have asked first. Lara, Diana and Penny wouldn’t have assumed.

  The optimism that had sustained Rob throughout the 400-kilometre round trip faded as he turned into Enderby Lane, and disappeared altogether when he saw the expression on Angie’s face at their approach. She had a death grip on the garden hose, the watering forgotten as her eyes fixed on the crate of chickens.

  ‘Please tell me you’ve brought those chooks for Brett, or your mother? God knows she needs them with all this baking she’s doing. I don’t do poultry.’ Angie looked horrified. ‘And a puppy?’

  Rob stepped out of the ute, still struggling to think of a solution as he unbuckled Claudia. She wriggled out of his arms and climbed up the tyre and into the ute tray. The pup barked and licked Claudia. Feathers floated through the air as the chickens raced around their confined space.

  He turned back to Angie, but her expression hadn’t changed. ‘I didn’t know you were scared of chickens until after we’d collected them from Penshurst and I’m not sure the lady will give us a refund. I’m hoping you’ll grow to love them? Claud loves them already. Think of all the double-yolkers they’ll lay.’

  Angie sighed. ‘I’m not scared of chickens, they give me asthma! And I don’t even have an oven, remember? Nor do we have a chicken coop. Unless you’ve knocked up a henhouse overnight?

  ‘Mum thought …’ Rob’s heart sank as her face hardened.

  ‘Oh God, of course your mother had something to do with this. Just like the Tidy Towns committee, the dahlia show and the whopping pink birthday cake. Why are you introducing a whole new level of work to our property? I don’t have time to train a dog either!’

  Rob watched Angie storm off. His boots felt heavy as he walked back to the ute. Even the sight of Claudia and the pup failed to lift his spirits.

  ‘C’mon, Claud. You and me had better get these animals sorted while Mum …’ He tried to think of a kid-friendly expression. ‘While she cools off a bit.’

  He looped a piece of bright blue baling twine through the dog’s collar. She licked his cheek. He unclipped her from the chain, ruffled her soft fur and set her on the ground. At least someone’s happy with the situation. Claudia grabbed the twine from his hands and dragged the puppy towards the sandpit, her laughter floating through the heat. Make that two.

  The battery drill whirred to a sluggish halt as Rob sank the final screw into the sheet of burgundy tin. He wiped sweat from his eyes and stepped back to admire the chicken coop.

  ‘How’s that, Claud? Keep the chooks in and the foxes out for a few days?’

  The final rays of sunshine reflected off the chook house and matching doghouse he’d whipped up with sheets of leftover roofing iron. Working with dark-coloured tin during a heatwave wasn’t ideal, but neither, he guessed, was buying chickens for someone who didn’t like poultry. He swore under his breath again. How did you miss that one, Jones?

  ‘Very good, Daddy,’ said Claudia, patting his leg and smiling up at him.

  The old chimney stood like a monument in the middle of the new chook yard. He tapped the red-brick and mortar structure, satisfied the chook house he’d built on one side would solve Angie’s concerns about its stability.

  Claudia pushed the puppy off her lap and reached for the lightweight door he’d fashioned from chicken wire, tin and weatherboards. She swung it with glee, a huge smile on her face as she kneeled down to check the new set-up. He followed her into the weatherboard coop, grabbed a handful of straw and stuffed it into the roosting boxes now nestled against the side of the old brickwork.

  ‘Chooky eggs?’

  Rob nodded, feeling sweat dripping off the end of his nose. ‘They’ll lay in there when they’re settled.’ The puppy yipped from her kennel as they moved the chickens into their new home.

  ‘Mummy see?’

  Rob looked back at the cottage and shed, but Ange’s little red hatchback still hadn’t returned. If this was how she reacted to chickens and a puppy, how was she going to manage the next surprise he’d planned? Too late now, Jones. You’d better suck it up. Maybe Mum will have some tips? He recalled the way Angie’s lips had compressed into a thin line at the mention of Rosa’s recent ‘help’ and nixed the idea.

  ‘C’mon, Claud. Let’s take the pup for a swim. Mum might be at the beach.’ He untied the pup from her kennel, lifted the dog onto the back of the ute, strapped Claudia into her seat and headed down the driveway.

  Before pulling onto the main road, he noticed a bundle of envelopes sticking out of the mailbox. He quickly leafed through them. Two envelopes caught his attention. Rob’s sweaty fingers slipped as he fumbled to open them. He winced at the figure on the bottom of the glazing quote. He’d hoped the first glazier had been way off the mark, but this was the second quote for windows, and it had just as many zeros on the bottom line. Unless both glaziers were incorrect, they needed to find an extra $20,000 on top of their allocated amount to double-glaze the cottage. Red tape jacked up the price of anything with a bushfire rating. A fresh torrent of sweat rolled down his back.

  He looked at the empty spot where Ange’s hatchback was normally parked. Today wasn’t a good day to explain this one. He’d have to bide his time.

  Even as the sun set, it still had bite. Angie waded into the ocean in her exercise shorts and singlet, letting it wash away the last traces of anger that had remained after her fast run. Saltwater merged with sweat as she ducked under a gentle wave then floated on her back.

  Angie closed her eyes, trying to empty her mind of everything except the cawing seagulls and lapping water. But instead of letting go, her thoughts kept returning to her and Rosa. To her and Rob. Not so much the chickens, but what the gesture had unearthed.

  A gaping big hole in their relationship.

  An abyss of unknowns that divided them.

  How was Rob to know each and every one of her likes and dislikes? They’d had three years and nine months together, and more than half that time he’d lived on the other side of the country. And only nine months of it had been without a child in their lives. Just like Bobbi had said earlier on their run, as she’d pushed Angie to go a little faster, there were bound to be gaps in their knowledge of each other.

  Angie felt water rushing into her ears and flung her arms out wider to stay afloat. She’d expected their relationship to be threatened by big things, like whether or not to continue with their surprise pregnancy, or agreeing to disagree when it came to politics, or baptising their child just to keep the peace. But they’d weathered those storms and instead somehow skipped the conversations about hopes and dreams, fears and first loves, ambitions … and attitudes towards extended family.

  Family … Angie squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of grief ran through her. Her mum had now been out of her life for longer than she’d been in it, but it was on days like these—moments of confusion, anger and frustration—that she felt the loss acutely.

  Mum wouldn’t be hovering at our door, dropping off food all the time. Mum wouldn’t be signing me up for overwhelming volunteer duties when I’ve just managed to escape those shackles. Mum wouldn’t make gigantic pink birthday cakes unless I’d asked her to.

  She swam and floated, floated and swam until the sound of a car pulling onto the gravel car park interrupted the tranquillity. Angie kept her eyes closed. Whichever tourist had managed to find the secluded cove would leave as soon as they saw it wasn’t patrolled by lifeguards.

  Car doors slammed and a familiar voice c
alled out, ‘Mummy!’

  Angie turned to see Claudia launch herself into the surf, fully dressed. In a split second, Angie’s moping transformed into terror. Claudia bounded into the waves, not a hint of concern wrinkling her round face as she slipped beneath the surface. Angie threw herself through the water, only pausing for air and to scan the swirling water for a mop of curls. Another wave broke. Claudia popped up, coughing and spluttering. Angie reached her at the same time as Rob. She quickly snatched Claudia into her arms.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum’s here,’ she soothed as she carried the crying child to the shore.

  Rob’s arms wrapped around them both, his breathing just as ragged. ‘By the time I’d untied the pup, she was gone.’

  ‘That could have been … She nearly …’ Angie sagged to her knees and flopped onto the sand. Claudia’s bottom lip quivered. Angie sucked in a shaky breath.

  ‘Claud, you can’t just run into the waves,’ said Rob.

  ‘Dad’s right, Claudia. You’ve got to wait for Dad and …’ she paused as she looked at the puppy. It licked Claudia’s face gently and rested its head on Angie’s arm.

  Angie sighed. Maybe she should just accept the puppy as the kind gesture Rob had intended it to be. ‘You’ve got to wait for Dad and the puppy. What are we going to call it, anyway?’

  ‘Baxter?’

  Rob laughed. ‘It’s a girl, Claud. And your teddy is already called Baxter. Maybe Mum should name her?’

  Angie softened. She didn’t want Claudia to remember her third birthday as the one when her parents didn’t talk to one another. Tomorrow’s party was going to be big enough already and Rob’s support would make a world of difference in the Rosa-wrangling stakes.

  ‘Violet would be a nice name. But you two are handling the chickens, all right? And you can be on dog poo duty, too.’

  Seventeen

  Claudia’s birthday party went off with barely a hitch, and the following afternoon they were back on the tools. Weatherboards creaked and groaned, hanging onto the hardwood frames as tightly as they could. Angie wriggled the crowbar deeper under the edge, levering it downwards until she felt the nail loosen and finally give in. She looked across triumphantly and was rewarded with a cheer from Rob.

  ‘See, it’s all in the angle of the dangle. We’ll have most of the boards pulled off by Sunday arvo if we keep going at this pace,’ he said. Multiple layers of paint flaked off the old timber as they added it to their growing bonfire pile. They worked side by side for the rest of the morning, a shoulder-high pile of old weatherboards amassing beside Claudia’s sandpit.

  ‘Still don’t understand why we don’t just replace the buggered boards instead of every darn one,’ said Angie. ‘Or offer them to a salvager.’

  Rob laughed as he carried an armful of boards to the heap.

  ‘Then you’ll be chasing your tail replacing every second or third one, and the profile on the new ones won’t match the old ones, or they’ll be a bit thicker or thinner. And who the heck’s going to want all of them anyway? Imagine scraping all that paint off. It’d take forever!’ Rob pushed his sleeves up and nodded at Claudia in the sandpit, surrounded by her new toys.

  ‘Party went well yesterday,’ he said.

  ‘Despite your Mum’s brilliant party activities.’

  Rob grinned. ‘The kids loved the water pistols.’

  ‘You weren’t the one wearing white when they started aiming for us. It was like a wet T-shirt contest after half an hour, and that darn pony,’ said Angie.

  Rob mumbled under his breath. ‘White’s a ridiculous colour. Just because Bobbi wears it …’

  This from a guy wearing paint-stained footy shorts and the shirt he repaired with a stapler last week, Angie thought.

  She prised a particularly tight board from the frame and turned to look at the ruined rose bushes. ‘If I’d known, I would’ve suggested the pony stay next door and then it could’ve munched on Rosa’s garden while giving pony-rides.’ She scanned the yard and caught Claudia helping herself to the bowl of dog food.

  ‘Claud! Leave that for Violet. Oh, gross.’ Angie groaned as Claudia offered the pup a handful of food and deftly slipped another piece into her mouth.

  Rob guffawed, looking at his watch. ‘Think Claud’s right. It’s after ten. Smoko time?’

  Angie washed Claudia’s hands in the shed bathroom and returned to find Rob staring into the fridge.

  ‘Where’s all the leftover party food? And the pantry’s pretty bare too. Are we all on a diet?’

  ‘I sent a plate home with everyone. Your mum’s bringing cake and bikkies every other day. No chance of starving around here.’

  Angie pulled a tub of cream cheese from the fridge, mashed it with tuna and sweet chilli sauce and passed it across the bench. ‘It’s not a diet. Here, whack this dip on a few Jatz crackers. I’ll have an apple.’ She reached for the fruit bowl, ignoring Rob’s gaze.

  ‘Just because Bobbi’s wielding the whip, doesn’t mean you have to roll over and take it. I haven’t seen you eat anything tasty in ages. Things are pretty tough if Claud has to resort to dog food, right?’ He laughed, loading a cracker with her tuna dip and handing it to Claudia. ‘This is healthy. Fish, dairy … chilli’s a veggie.’

  Angie took another bite of her apple, leafing through the pile of mail on the bench, determined not to overreact like when he’d brought the new animals home. She knew he meant well—there wasn’t a hint of malice in his body—but as much as she’d appreciated his recent insistence that he liked her curves, she couldn’t help feeling a spike of irritation. It was fine for Rob—he could eat sweet treats without gaining a kilo—but she only had to look at a tray of lamingtons and they appeared on her hips the next morning. She was starting to feel good about her body for the first time in a long time. Is that so hard to understand?

  ‘Bobbi’s helping me be the best version of myself. So I can be a good role model for Claudia and …’ She bit into her apple before she added the words ‘her siblings’. Despite Rob’s and Rosa’s hints, she didn’t want to add to their brood until they’d settled in. No ifs, buts or maybes.

  She opened the glazier’s envelope. ‘Ughhh, this one’s even more expensive than the last. I’ve got no idea how people afford ceiling-to-floor glazing, if this is the going rate for a few sheets of glass.’

  Rob tapped the invoice. ‘You know what they say. Quality doesn’t cost … it pays. Least these ones will be Aussie-made, and if we’ve got any problems we’ll be able to call up the local glazier, instead of dealing with some city schmuck. All my clients will be up in arms if word gets out we’re spending most of our reno budget with out-of-town suppliers,’ he said.

  Angie rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He was right. Their building project was a hot topic every time she ventured into Port Fairview. From shopkeepers and Rob’s old school friends to the postmistress and Rosa’s craft cronies … everyone asked which tradies they were using, when they’d be finished and how it was all going. She just hoped their budget would stretch to accommodate the extra expenses before that particular topic became fodder for the rumour mill.

  Angie rolled out of bed, shaking off dreams of gold-plated windows, diamond-encrusted chimneys and empty bank accounts. She crept though the shed by torchlight, collecting her running watch and keys before Claudia stirred again. Rob could deal with the next wake-up. The morning was fresh and dewy, in stark contrast to her grouchy mood. Angie forced herself to jog towards the hatchback and think about the new route Bobbi had planned for them, rather than the number of times she’d settled Claudia during the night.

  She yawned as she drove past the Jones’s dairy, lit up like a cruise ship in the pre-dawn sky. Angie was glad Rob hadn’t followed in his parents’ footsteps. It wasn’t just the early mornings and the twice-daily commitment; she’d seen enough newspaper articles and Landline episodes to know dairy farming was a tough way to eke out a living. Between consumers wanting to pay rock-bottom prices for milk and b
ig corporations that swallowed ma-and-pa operations for breakfast, the industry wasn’t for the faint-hearted.

  Bobbi was waiting by her mailbox, her glossy black ponytail swishing from side to side, when Angie arrived at her house. She tapped her watch theatrically. ‘Thought you were going to stand me up for a minute there. Trouble getting out of bed?’

  Angie stifled another yawn as they set off towards the Port Fairview river. ‘Spent more time out of bed than in it. Claudia was up all night. Helping at the dairy last week wasn’t hard, but we’ve been paying for it ever since with Claudia’s sleep. Or lack of sleep, more to the point.’

  ‘Sounds like a great excuse to avoid future milking duties. How’s your mother-in-law going, anyway? Or should I say “smother-in-law”? Still trying to sabotage your healthy-eating regime? She was force-feeding my boys cake at the party. No wonder Claudia had her choppers out—all that sugar sends them batty.’

  ‘I know, I’m so sorry. Did she leave bite marks? I told Rosa not to bring anything, but she doesn’t take no for an answer.’ Angie almost stumbled as they transitioned from jogging to walking.

  ‘You’ve gotta do something. Honestly! Maybe hang on to all her Tupperware, so she can’t bring you anything else.’

  ‘She means well, she’s just a bit full on. Food deliveries are one thing, but the showing up unannounced is doing my head in. Claudia and I were dancing around the shed the other day, and next thing I know Rosa’s waltzing in with a glazier—one of her friend’s sons who was home for holidays. I don’t know who was more mortified, me for singing into the end of a broom handle at the top of my lungs, or him for catching me in my nighty. And did I tell you about the committees knocking on my door? I guess I should be flattered, but I’ve got enough on my plate already.’