by Paula Hayes
Lumpy drunken cheese sauce slopped over the hob and down the front of the stove. Dylan was cooking again. “Fondue! Darlinks, we must have fondue … I could have been on Masterchef—” he cried as he carefully poured more brandy into his fondue sauce then not so carefully swigged from the bottle. The cold alcohol hit his tonsils and made him gag and laugh, “But Liam ruined it all —” he fell into a silent choke and Anna finished his sentence.
“Liam ruined it all by telling you it is hard slog and real head chefs make Ramsey’s potty mouth sound like a Gregorian chant.”
But Dylan was still getting cheffy with it as he threw handfuls of Swiss cheese into the mixture, some made it into the pot but most of it nestled into open drawers and cups. With his spoon heavily laden, he swung around to face the girls, flicking cheesy gloop everywhere just as Anna’s mum, Natalie entered the room with a boxful of veggies fresh from her garden.
“I've put Buns bunny in with the chooks. She has become maudlin since Pops died, she needs company.” She placed the box on the table and pulled off her beanie. “It looks like rain,” she shivered and touched the tip of her freezing nose.
“She is a rabbit mother, rabbits don’t mourn,” spat out Anna. “You are psychologically damaging her, she will develop an identity crisis!”
Natalie ignored her and walked over to Dylan and removed the brandy bottle from his clenched grip.
“I bought that brandy when I last made a Christmas pudding in 1997, it’s beyond fortification and probably turning into paint stripper. It certainly isn’t helping your dexterity Dyl.” Natalie sighed as she looked around her trashed kitchen, splattered in Pollack yellow.
Jacqui was seated at the kitchen table peeling carrots. Anna watched as strangled little strips of the vegetable fell to the floor.
“I can’t believe you hacked into Mr. Trigwell’s Facebook account and practically ruined his life yet a potato peeler defies you!” bitched Anna as she swept up the chalky scraps. The broom moved back and forward on flakes of cheese, leaving terse little streaks on the floorboards.
Anna’s mind moved forward. Jacqui would probably want to sleep over again, the last time she stayed three nights. She was sick of finding long strands of dewy ginger hair in the shower drain, sick of Jacqui photographing her pregnant sister’s growing belly, sick of walking in on heart to hearts between HER mother and Jacqui. Didn’t she have a home to go to? And she is an only child, how lucky is that!
Jacqui sat at the large wooden table with one of Nat’s homegrown irregular shaped carrots in one hand and a peeler in the other, staring into space. Dylan could tell her mind was right here in this room and that she was trying to get her isn’t everything lovely peeps stoned look going on but he could see the tears rise up to the edge of her beautiful green eyes.
He felt the tension mounting but could only manage to look at Anna with a slack open mouth while vaguely sensing Lottie the puppy licking the spilt sauce from his toes. Larry got up and shuffled around but was too late and returned to his bed disappointed.
Dylan regained his composure and loudly exclaimed with great affectation, “Oh how I wish I’d worn my cravat.” He took in both girls with a sidelong glance and hurriedly continued on. “All the Wiki sites stress the importance of creating atmosphere but you will spring these little schemes on us without a moment’s notice you evil minx Jacs … still I am looking adorable in your apron Mrs Grey,” he winked at Natalie.
Natalie looked up from washing vegetables and shouted, “Dylan, love, your sauce is catching. Dylan, the cheese is burning. DYLAN, turn the bloody stove off and get your fondue off the heat.” She took the pot from him and started the long process of resuscitating the sauce.
Dylan took the opportunity to sneak another long swig from the brandy bottle and then examined the label, “Ah Saint Agnes ... Agnes ... what a woman, the ruination of many a good man,” he laughed and stuck his tongue into the bottle like a parched ant eater.
Jacqui hadn’t noticed, she was wringing her hands and looking like a waif about to float away. Anna had noticed and asked, “Didn’t anyone read the email I forwarded you all?”
“Was it the one on compulsory circumcision for all male animals and performers in the circus … particularly the trapeze artists?”
“WHAT?” said Jacqui shaking herself out of her funk. “What are you talking about, Dyl?”
“Really?” said Nat wide eyed, “I didn’t get that one.”
“Nah … I made it up,” snickered Dylan.
Anna stopped sweeping and pointed her broom at Dylan’s head but he and Agnes were off and racing.
“Did you get the thesis about green vegetables being afraid of the dark … turns them yellow?”
“Har, har!”
“I got the one on misogyny in rap music,” offered Jacqui looking at Anna. “It was really informative.”
“Yeah me and my skanky biatches loved that one too,” rapped Dylan. “But I am still thinking about butt implants,” he teased as he humped a kitchen stool.
He was duly ignored as Natalie pulled her jumper down over her hips.
“I got the petition about shark culling, I signed it and shared it,” said Nat adding, “good on you Anna, you are a noble little thing.”
“No!” barked Anna. “It’s the one on the effects on alcohol on the underage teenage brain.” She resumed sweeping and muttered under her breath, “I thought you might find the paragraphs on risky behaviour useful.”
Sometimes, Anna woke up in the night with the image of the snake arm slipping around Jacqui’s tiny body. Sometimes … in her nightmare … she never came back but all this was left unsaid.
The humming kitchen fell silent as Jacqui closely regarded her misshapen carrot and Dylan engaged Agnes in a staring competition.
“I take that as a no then. You are a point in case Dylan. Just step back and look at the mess you are making, you are normally hyper tidy. Do you or do you not have your biros colour co-ordinated?” Anna demanded to know.
“Yes,’’ he said without looking up.
“Do you allow anyone to graffiti your pencil case or files?” she continued like a cross examining lawyer.
“They are from Kiki K, they are expensive and beautiful,” said Dylan defensively. “Why should I let you two deface them because you are bored?"
“Do you or do you not, make your bed every morning at six o clock AND when you get up in the night for the toilet?” Anna had the momentum of an out of control cannon.
“Grandfather bought me the doona for my birthday, I cherish his gift and one of the greatest pleasures in life is sinking into a freshly made bed,” he finished sullenly.
She continued on, “Can you refill the pepper grinder?”
Dylan looked at the large jar of peppercorns and the small grinder and was stumped.
“Enough Anna. That is enough!” Natalie’s head and upper body were wedged in a low cupboard searching for the fondue kit. “Now help me up off the floor, I’m stuck,” continued Natalie. “I can barely manage the peppercorn job cold stone sober, they are slippery little buggers, peppercorns. I don’t want to be finding them into the middle of next week.” She waggled her finger at him, “And that is enough brandy Dylan.” Natalie rubbed her knee and then her back. She winked at Dylan and he smiled shyly. She put the lid on the bottle and put it back in its place next to a jar of geriatric dried fruit.
Jacqui put down her peeler and declared, “Well this is fun … NOT!”
“FUN, there is more to life than fun, Jacqui,” exploded Anna.
Dylan slumped onto a kitchen stool and looked over Jacqui’s shoulder ever ready with a distracting comment, "What are you looking at?" he asked giving her a friendly poke in the ribs with the wooden spoon.
“Ghosts of course,” replied Jacqui evenly, without looking up, handed him the tablet, although her face was flushed.
“That’s not a ghost; it
’s a midget with uneven eye shadow, spewing out a lace doily,” shuddered Dylan.
“That’s not a doily,” said Jacqui, “its ectoplasm.”
“It’s obviously a bloody doily, someone has untwined it and stuffed it in his face,” snapped Anna, looking over Dylan’s shoulder.
“It’s still very scary, whatever it is. It looks like it’s been crocheted by the devil. Look at that one … all this webby stuff is coming out of her ear. Yucky, really yucky.” Dylan touched his ear and winced, “Remember when I perforated my ear drum last summer?”
“Yes Dylan!” said Anna and Jacqui in synch. Jacqui offered a smile while Anna studied a floorboard.
“I would love to have a photo of a ghost for my collection,” sighed Jacqui, as she viewed a phantom woman hovering in the middle of a flight of steps, her face was powdered white and delicate lace draped over her hair. Natalie took a peek at the beautiful girl in the photo and then looked at Jacqui with concern. There was something fragile and ethereal about her too … she was losing heart and verve.
Anna leaned over Dylan, “Double exposure,” she grimaced impatiently still sweeping, although the floor was now clean.
“What are you watching tonight, some sort of scary movie?” asked Natalie as she brought the fondue sauce back to a shiny lustre and finished cutting up the vegies.
“We are raising the dead, mother,” said Anna defiantly. She wasn’t interested but a new thought entered her mind, this séance might annoy her Mum and upset her traditional religious dogma and this would be an unexpected bonus for the evening.
“Oh,” said Natalie, looking slightly rattled; she frowned fleetingly and looked directly at Anna. The frown passed and she smiled, “Be careful because séances are the work of the Devil,” she said lightly, “and don’t wake up Kev with your atmospheric soundtrack—I know you two like your music up loud.” She waggled a finger at Jacqui and Dylan and chuckled.
“The Devil is a social construct developed by man.”
Dylan, Natalie and Jacqui tried not to make eye contact. They knew they were in for one of Anna’s l-o-n-g lectures. Anna raved on to her conclusion. “It is a concept designed to frighten us into being easily controlled.”
“So very glad I’m spending thousand of dollars on your Catholic education,” said Natalie, tight lipped. “Eureka!” she suddenly shouted and made her way to the cupboard above the fridge, standing on tippy toes and cursing her short-legged genetics. There, behind the punch bowl set sat the fondue kit. She pulled it forward triumphantly.
Jacqui clapped her hands in delight but looked straight past the chipped enamel fondue pot as Natalie blew away mummified cockroaches and spider webs. “Ahhh—the Seventies,” Nat smiled secretly to herself.
Jacqui was intrigued by something else. “A punch bowl! Oh Mrs Gray, that would be perfect for my Eighteenth, I'm going to have a Seventies party.” She drew a happy face in the thick dust hiding the ornately patterned glass. "Such fun," she faltered. She had said the F word again.
“It is sixteen months away!” answered Natalie, taking the bowl out of her hands.
“The effects of alcohol on the teenage brain, a bit of light reading matter, thought you might enjoy it! SUCH FUN!” mimicked Anna under her breath. “And anyway, who will you invite? All your virtual vampire friends on face book?” She was losing volume but her expression spoke loudly. Jacqui sat at the table, looking at a foul cottony web descending from some charlatan’s nose but her knuckles were white and her small delicate bones protruded as she gripped the table.
Natalie wiped her hands on a tea towel and went to speak to her but was drowned out by Lottie and Larry going berko with excitement as Kevin, Anna’s dad, entered with a bag of Italian takeaway, a bag of dog bones and a bottle of red.
“Come on Nat, grab us a couple of plates and forks and enjoy your night off cooking. I’ll go and put Twister on … I don’t think we caught the ending last time.”
“Not again Kevin, you’re asleep by the time the cow gets airborne,” groaned Natalie.
“Spoiler alert, there is a hurricane,” teased Dylan.
“Ahh Dylan … you’re a comedian tonight … hilarious … how are you? I reckon I don’t mind the purple in your hair, it’s an improvement over the red and yellow stripes.”
“Thanks Mr. G, you’re a peach,” replied Dylan.
Kev patted Jacqui on the shoulder and kissed Anna on the forehead and then hurried to the back of the house.
“Too far Dylan,” said Anna. “You know Dad has just started his blood pressure medication.”
Natalie called out after him, “You’re not in the least bit peachy Kev darl, you’re a bear of a man.”
Jacqui and Dylan giggled as Anna shook her head in disgust. “Mother!”
“Oh Mrs Grey, we have hijacked your night off. I am so sorry. You seemed to have done all the work and it looks fabulous. Thank you so much,” Jacqui gave a sparkling smile.
“A pleasure, my darlings,” replied Natalie. She went to scoop up Lottie, the Chihuahua who was spooning Larry but Dylan stopped her.
“Can you leave us Lottie or Larry for tonight? Wiki says we need a canine with preternatural extrasensory skills.” Natalie looked blankly at him.
“It means the dog will bark on the off chance there is a ghost floating past, alerting us to the fact there is a ghost floating past, Mother.” Anna was gripping the broom with two hands like a mallet.
“I’m well aware of that, love.” She gently took the broom from Anna and swapped it for Lottie. “Take Lottie. Larry is not allowed in the good room any more, he is obsessed with the new mat. Anyway, he is as deaf as a post. Have a good time and if you wake up Kevin with Alice Cooper singing, ‘Welcome to my Nightmare’ at three in the morning, you will feel my wrath.” She shut the door.
