Inheriting Jack

by Kris Webb

  She headed back to the car, still talking over her shoulder. ‘So have you heard from the hunky Tony?’

  ‘No, not sure I will after my ridiculous comments about that bloody movie.’ Tanya had received a blow-by-blow telephone account of the movie and my postshow analysis, none of which improved in the telling.

  Tanya hauled some shopping bags out of the back seat of the car. She always got so excited about the array of food in the local deli that she bought twice as much as she needed.

  Jack seemed a bit unnerved by Tanya’s non-stop conversation and clung to me a bit more tightly than usual. As Tanya slammed the door shut and pointed the keyring at the car to lock it, I saw an old MG round the corner. My stomach lurched and I told myself sternly that there were hundreds of old MGs in Brisbane. But not hundreds of old MGs pulling up in front of my house, I corrected myself.

  Tanya turned to follow my gaze and we both watched Tony open the door and step out.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ I stuttered in response, conscious of how bad I must look. I’d dressed for bathing Jack and had on an ancient pair of jeans, a threadbare U2 tour T-shirt with unidentified stains down the front, and a pair of sneakers.

  He walked up to us, swinging his car keys in one hand, the other behind his back.

  ‘Hello, champ,’ he said, ruffling Jack’s hair, then looking at me. ‘I was at the gym and thought I’d drop by on the off-chance you were home.’ Dressed in a grey T-shirt and black shorts, he looked pretty damn good for someone who had just been to the gym.

  ‘And . . .’ he continued, ‘I was walking through the Mall today and saw a man making these.’ From behind his back he produced a pink balloon twisted into the shape of a poodle.

  Smiling delightedly, Jack grabbed at it.

  ‘Boon!’

  Clutching Maggie’s truck in one hand and his ‘boon’ in the other, Jack looked like Christmas had come early.

  I smiled at Tony. ‘Thanks – it’s great.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He looked at me gently and I could feel myself start to blush. I stepped back slightly and realised that Tanya was standing off to one side, smiling awkwardly.

  I introduced them. ‘Tanya’s in from the country for the weekend,’ I explained to Tony.

  ‘I had a fight with my husband and ended up here as I usually do. Julia very kindly hears all my emotional dramas.’

  This early in a trip to town, Tanya was incapable of a two-word greeting.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ I suggested.

  ‘Here, I’ll take those.’ Tony took the shopping bags from Tanya and followed us into the house.

  Patrick was sitting on the deck, an almost empty glass of wine in his hand. Tanya threw her arms around him and patted him on the back. ‘You poor love,’ she said, then drew away and hugged Maggie warmly.

  Patrick managed a half-hearted smile in response.

  ‘Tony,’ I said, ‘this is Maggie.’

  Maggie’s eyes lit up and she looked from Tony to me. Desperate to head off the embarrassing question I had no doubt she was framing, I thrust Jack at her.

  ‘Say goodnight to Maggie, Jack.’

  ‘Goodnight, little man.’ She kissed the top of his head.

  Although I managed to convince him the balloon poodle would sleep better in the cupboard, no amount of reasoning was going to separate him from his truck.

  Harold was already in the cot and I laid both Jack and the truck down. I closed the door, trying to pretend I couldn’t hear the very unsleepy truck noises coming from the cot.

  ‘I’m really sorry you lost your job, Patrick,’ Tanya was saying as I walked back onto the deck.

  ‘You’ve lost your job?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Patrick sighed. ‘My cardboard box and I were made redundant today.’

  ‘That’s really bad. You didn’t see it coming?’

  ‘Nope. So unless you can reinvent me as the new Naked Chef, I’ll have to get back out into the job market.’ He paused. ‘Actually, I’ve always felt Jamie Oliver wimped out by wearing clothes. If it helps, I don’t have a problem with nudity,’ he added hopefully.

  ‘Got it.’ Tony smiled. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

  ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about my career, I’m just getting more depressed. What can I get you to drink?’ He looked at Tony and Tanya. ‘There’s wine open and beer in the fridge.’

  Everyone settled around the table with their drinks. The heat of the day had gone and it was a lovely evening.

  ‘How’s the book going?’ Patrick turned to Tanya, clearly determined not to talk about his problems.

  ‘Still no word – I’m thinking about putting the whole thing in the bin. Maybe I got it all wrong and it’s crap.’ Tanya had finished writing a novel three months ago and had so far only received a stack of rejection letters.

  ‘C’mon,’ I said. ‘It’s always difficult at the start. I heard that the guy who won this year’s Booker Prize was rejected by heaps of publishers before he was finally signed up.’

  ‘Yeah, and imagine how dumb those publishers feel now.’ Maggie had finally given up pretending she liked her Pussyfoot and had poured herself a glass of wine. ‘Not to mention poor,’ she added.

  ‘But all is not lost.’ Tanya smiled. ‘I actually got my first cheque as a novelist this week.’

  I was confused. ‘But I thought you’d only written one book?’

  To my surprise, Tanya flushed a deep red. ‘Promise you won’t laugh?’

  Intrigued, we all shook our heads.

  ‘Well,’ she said, and paused with a smile on her face. ‘About six months ago I got sick of not earning any money, so I spent a week and a half writing a romance novel and sent it off to Black Label Press. I didn’t hear from them for ages and figured they hated it. But a couple of weeks ago I got a letter saying they liked the concept, but the manuscript needed a bit more sizzle. So I added a scene where the hero and heroine had sex in some sand dunes, sent it back and they told me they loved it. It gets released in July.’

  Patrick couldn’t restrain himself any longer. ‘You write porn? That’s fantastic!’

  ‘It’s not porn, it’s erotic romance!’ Tanya pretended to be offended.

  I glanced at Tony, who seemed highly amused by the whole situation.

  ‘Who cares what kind of novel it is?’ I interrupted. ‘You’re going to be published. What is it called?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet. Maybe In the Heat of the Night?’

  ‘Nice,’ Patrick nodded approvingly.

  I looked at him. ‘Since when were you an expert on porn – erotic romance?’ I corrected myself.

  Patrick ignored me. ‘Will you write another one?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’m actually halfway through number two,’ she admitted. ‘When I started I thought it would be hard to adapt my normal writing style. But the funny thing is it came really naturally. It’s great fun. You know how I always said I felt I had a book in me?’ The question was directed at Maggie and me and we nodded. ‘Well, I’m thinking maybe this was the stuff I was meant to do – not that exercise in navel gazing that’s sitting in my bottom drawer.’

  ‘So, do you need some male role models?’ Patrick asked, preening.

  ‘Funny you should mention that,’ she smiled. ‘The one criticism the publishers had was that all of my male characters were two-dimensional. That actually didn’t help the situation with Greg, not when I told him that it was probably a reflection on the men around me.’

  We all winced.

  ‘So when can I read it?’ I asked.

  ‘Never.’ She certainly wasn’t prevaricating about that. ‘I’m using a pen name and no one I know is ever going to read my stuff. And by the way, I lied about the title.’ She gave a mischievous grin.

  Tony seemed to be enjoying himself and showed no signs of leaving. ‘So are we talking lots of sex?’ he asked, grinning.

  ‘What you may not know is that there are various levels of eroticism in
Black Label’s books. I figured if I was going to do this I might as well jump in with both feet, so I’m writing for the Fantasy series. Not exactly X-rated, but we’re not talking shy retiring virgins who faint after a decent kiss. It’s actually quite liberating being able to throw your hero and heroine into wild lustful situations,’ she added.

  ‘I hope you didn’t mention that to Greg.’ I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Unfortunately yes.’

  I could see why she was in Brisbane and he was in the middle of the outback.

  ‘So what do you do, Tony?’ Tanya managed to ask the question with a straight face, despite the fact that we’d spent about half an hour on the phone analysing exactly that subject.

  ‘Well, for the moment I’m the assistant producer for a community TV station. But it’s looking highly likely that may not last much longer.’

  ‘Do you still have your picketers?’ Patrick asked.

  ‘No, thank God. I guess going round and round the parking lot at TV53 wore a bit thin.

  ‘I’ve had angry mothers and children demonstrating outside the studio in protest at my axing of a kids’ show,’ he explained for Tanya and Maggie’s benefit. ‘And given that I haven’t yet come up with a reasonable alternative, I’m not exactly kicking goals.’

  ‘Maybe both your and Patrick’s problems are going to be solved when his show becomes a huge success.’ I’d decided I needed to head off the conversation before it became too tragic.

  ‘You never know, I guess.’ Tony smiled doubtfully. ‘John is back on Monday and that production meeting is finally going to happen next week.’

  Both Maggie and Tanya knew the details of every conversation I’d ever had with Tony, so the idea of Patrick’s show wasn’t new to them. But I didn’t want Tony knowing that.

  ‘Tony is talking about the idea of Patrick hosting a kids’ cooking show,’ I informed them.

  I could see Maggie trying not to smile as she nodded, an interested look on her face.

  ‘Really?’ Tanya put what I thought was an unnecessary amount of surprise into her voice and I frowned at her.

  ‘Yeah, but it will probably just be a dire failure like every other part of my professional life.’ Patrick was getting more morose by the second.

  ‘Ah, well, I can relate to that,’ Maggie sighed. ‘We’ve had the quietest week in living memory. You’d think I’d be used to pub fluctuations and know not to panic, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Have you always worked in pubs?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Pretty much. My dad bought his first one when I was about five, so I’ve been around them as long as I can remember.’

  ‘And you still decided to work in pubs even when you were old enough to do something different?’ I had noticed this before about Tony – he seemed genuinely interested in other people’s stories.

  ‘I know. If I’d been a proper teenager and rebelled against my parents I would have become a teetotaller.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged, ‘there’s just something about pubs that I like. God knows what would ever happen if I decided to settle down and have a real life. Not that that’s looking like being a problem any time soon,’ she added, looking sheepish. ‘Guess who I’m seeing tonight?’

  ‘Maggie!’ Tanya and I exclaimed in unison. I pasted my most disapproving expression on my face. But we all knew it was a half-hearted gesture.

  Marcus was dark, stubbled and gorgeous. He was the lead singer of a high-profile band. He was also an ex-boyfriend who Maggie just couldn’t quite manage to leave behind. They’d become inseparable within weeks of first meeting. Marcus’s band was just starting out at the time and Maggie had joked about being their first groupie. She’d designed their first promo T-shirts and sold them at gigs, raving about the music to anyone who would listen.

  But then, after they’d been together for a couple of years, Maggie’s father had had a stroke. He’d recovered but retired from work at the pub. Almost overnight Maggie was transformed from a duty manager, able to change shifts to work around the band, to being the one making decisions and on call twenty-four hours a day. The band and Marcus had started to take a back seat, Maggie no longer able to disappear in Marcus’s kombie for three days at a stretch. Around the same time, the band had decided to give up their day jobs and move to Sydney.

  Marcus and Maggie had both tried hard to keep the relationship going, but the pressure of their different lives had finally become too much, and two years ago they had agreed to go their separate ways.

  Except that neither of them seemed to be able to stick to that decision.

  Maggie swore they didn’t speak to each other regularly, but every time Marcus was in Brisbane, the routine was the same. He’d call her. She’d go to see him play. They’d end up in bed and they’d both be a terrible mess when the time came for him to leave. After the last such scene, about six months earlier, Maggie had made Tanya and me promise to talk her out of seeing him again. But we’d all known it was a lost cause.

  If I hadn’t been so intent on getting Jack ready for bed, I would have guessed where she was off to as soon as she’d arrived. She had on her high-heeled boots, fitted black jeans and a halter-neck top that was certainly not suitable for working in the pub.

  ‘I know, I know – he called last night and asked me to come to their show.’

  ‘What about the text-messaging man? Won’t this break his heart?’

  Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Hardly. The second time I saw him I gave up the whingy girlfriend routine and acted normal. And he never called me again! I swear I will never understand men!’

  ‘Hey!’ Patrick called out from the sink where he was opening another bottle of wine. ‘Like you women come with a manual!’

  Anxious to avoid an all-out Mars vs Venus conversation, which was never going to end well, I turned to Tanya. ‘So, Ms Erotic Romance, what’s for dinner?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Tanya paused for effect. ‘How does a little seafood and fennel risotto followed by roasted honey peaches with mascarpone sound?’

  We all made suitably appreciative noises and Tanya headed into the kitchen.

  Tony looked at his watch. ‘I actually have to get going. I’m supposed to be meeting someone in twenty minutes and I haven’t even had a shower.’ My spirits sank. I’d been thinking he might stay for dinner, but not surprisingly he already had plans.

  He stood up. ‘Thanks for the drinks.’

  For a moment he looked at me and I thought he was going to say something, but he just waved. ‘See you later – enjoy your dinner.’

  And with that he was gone.

  ‘Okay, so now what do I do?’ I asked when I was sure he was out of earshot. ‘Is he keen? Is he after my money? What?’

  ‘Well if he’s after your money, he has seriously bad information.’ Patrick had accidentally opened my last bank statement and had been shocked by my lack of financial standing.

  ‘I’m thinking he’s a full suitcase man.’ Maggie took a sip of wine and nodded sagely.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘There’s a group of women who hold a book club in the pub once a month. Basically it’s an excuse for a piss-up – to my knowledge they don’t even talk about books. Last time they were in I sat down and had a drink with them and they were telling me all about this theory they have come up with about men. They reckon that any man who is older than thirty and single has baggage – it’s just the size of the baggage that varies.’

  Tanya was leaning against the rail, listening.

  ‘According to them, guys who have been a bit scarred but could potentially get over it have carry-on luggage. But,’ she held up a finger, ‘the ones who are totally screwed up have a matching set of suitcases.’

  ‘And you think Tony has lots of baggage?’ I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  Maggie nodded. ‘I kind of get that feeling,’ she said. ‘But hell, what do I know about relationships – I’m about to go out and get my heart broken again. And I even got dressed up to d
o it.’

  ‘I reckon everyone has something they’re trying to get over. Maybe Tony just needs someone to help him deal with it.’ A true romantic, Tanya always managed to put a positive spin on hopeless situations.

  Yeah, I thought. And Jack and I are just what he needs.

  With Tony’s departure the mood of the group darkened. Even Tanya’s typically sensational meal didn’t do much to cheer things up. Maggie headed off to meet Marcus after dessert and Patrick disappeared downstairs to his bedroom. Tanya and I were left by ourselves.

  She turned to me. ‘I’d better get going too. Feel like hitting the shops tomorrow?’

  I hesitated. ‘I’d love to, but it just won’t work with Jack. I took him into one of the clothes shops on Brunswick Street last week. He screamed until I let him out of the stroller and then lunged at one of the clothes racks. The top bar came off and all the clothes slid into a big heap. God knows how I’m ever going to buy clothes again. Maybe I’ll just have to do everything by mail order.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Tanya didn’t seem thrilled by the idea of us as shopping companions.

  Searching for a compromise I said, ‘Look, why don’t you and I meet for a coffee at the normal place? I doubt that Maggie will make it, given Marcus is in town. I should be able to keep Jack under control if I feed him enough biscuits, and you can show me what you’ve bought.’

  I was pretty sure this was a mistake, but refused to miss out on the shopping experience altogether.

  ‘Okay, that sounds like a good plan.’ Tanya picked up her keys and I tried not to feel sorry for myself. ‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said. ‘Say eleven?’

  I nodded glumly.

  Tanya kissed me on the cheek and left.

  I looked in on Jack, something I’d fallen into the habit of doing before I went to bed each night. He was fast asleep, head wedged against the cot and face pressed up against Harold’s warty back. Asleep, he looked like an angel, incapable of the diabolical acts he was no doubt dreaming up right now.