by Cassie Hamer
It would just be easier to stay right here and let them argue about burps.
‘Mum,’ whined Jasper. ‘Where’s our arvo tea? Daddy always brings it to eat in the car.’
‘Yeah, we’re starving,’ said Noah.
Other mums raved about mindfulness and meditation, but Alex found selective deafness far more useful. She wasn’t listening to the burp conversation, or the demands for food. Not at all. She was sitting there, peacefully admiring the view of her home and, while studiously ignoring the twins, she was also paying no attention to the other little voice telling her she would never quite feel at home here.
Where was the fibro? The wire-mesh fences? The rusting letterboxes and weeds growing out of concrete?
Wasn’t that how kids grew up? It was how she’d grown up, all those thousands of kilometres away in Perth. Nothing like this beautiful street that today looked as classic and fresh as a crisp, white shirt, thanks to the Sunday afternoon working bee, unofficially co-ordinated by Beth, to clear the storm damage.
You earned this. You deserve this. You worked for this.
Well, not quite. Officially, the bank owned most of their house. The mortgage was eye-watering, but provided Alex kept working, they could keep their heads above water, just. Still, the oversized debt didn’t exactly alleviate her sense of being an impostor, like a troll doll that accidentally found its way into the Barbie mansion. Not that Alex had ever owned either as a child. Not like her sons, who had everything.
‘Mum, c’mon. I’m hungry. Why aren’t we moving?’ said Jasper.
‘Yeah, Mum, come on,’ said his little echo, Noah, younger than Jasper by only ten minutes, but it may as well have been ten years.
‘Okay, boys. I’m moving, I’m moving.’
She swung into the garage and set her little lion cubs free from their cage.
‘Mum, can I play with Henrietta?’ Noah leapt out and stopped at the door.
‘Course you can,’ Alex opened the boot and leant in. ‘But come and get your bags first.’ Silence. She leant out again. The garage was empty. The boys gone. Alex sighed and surveyed the load for a second, trying to work out how she could best use her two arms to carry six bags, including two backpacks. How did James make it look so easy?
‘Would you like some help?’
Alex turned quickly. That new girl in the street. What was her name? Tanya … Dara … Dahlia. No. Talia. That was it.
‘Oh, hi, Talia. Thanks for offering.’ Helpful and mature. Potentially A-grade babysitter material. Alex was always on the lookout as they tended to go through a lot of them. ‘That would be wonderful. The boys have run off to play with our guinea pig.’ She handed a backpack to Talia. ‘Do you have any pets?’
The teenager grimaced. ‘We have a cat and she gets out all the time. Mum didn’t want to bring her here. She said pets don’t like being moved and it’s better to have a clean start.’
A clean start. What did that mean?
‘What about your dad, does he like animals?’ Alex kept her voice casual to obscure what a judge would have dismissed as a leading question.
‘He said we had to bring Banjo or the pound would put him to sleep. He loves animals.’ Talia beamed, then the smile faded. ‘He’s in America at the moment … On business.’
The Primal Guy in the USA. That made perfect sense. They’d wet themselves over his nutty ideas.
‘Mum, Henny’s not back in her cage yet.’ Jasper was back and panting, little tendrils of hair stuck to his damp forehead.
‘And the hutch is still open,’ added Noah.
‘Well, I wonder whose fault that is?’ The boys had a habit of playing with Henny and forgetting to put her back. But she was such a timid little thing (probably traumatised by the boys) she generally tended to return herself to the hutch.
‘Not mine,’ said Jasper quickly.
‘Not mine,’ said Noah, not quite as quickly.
‘Look, she’s probably somewhere in the garden, or maybe at one of the neighbours’. Go and start looking. Quick.’ She shooed the boys away, regretting for the one hundred and fiftieth time that she’d ever been talked into getting a pet.
‘I thought I saw something earlier, it was little and furry, near our place. It might have been your guinea pig. Maybe I could help look?’ said Talia.
‘Thanks, Talia, that’d be great.’
Alex smiled tightly through the prickle of fear in her stomach. The boys would be devastated if anything happened to their beloved guinea pig.
‘Hen-yyyyyyyy. Where are youuuuuuuuuu? We miss youuuuuu.’ That was Noah. Heartfelt and sincere.
‘We’ve got food, Henny. Come quick or you’ll miss out,’ called Jasper, irritated. Always strategic.
Through the garage door, Alex could see that the twins had moved beyond the garden onto the footpath, with Talia close by. Alex watched as she took Noah’s hand and spoke gently to him.
‘Let’s look in our front garden. I thought I saw a little rat there earlier but it might have been your guinea pig.’
Alex resumed her focus on the mountain of bags in the boot.
‘Only five years old. And they come with so much stuff,’ she grumbled to nobody in particular, reaching in to collect another bag.
She had her hand on the strap, when a piercing shriek made her jerk up so quickly that her skull banged into the door of the boot which, in her laziness, she hadn’t quite lifted to its full height.
‘Muuuuuummm!’
Ignoring the thumping pain in her head, she dropped the bags and ran. Was it Noah or Jasper? Please god, don’t let them have fallen and cracked their heads open like Noah had done when he was three years old and decided that he really was Superman and needed to test his powers by leaping off their balcony onto the concrete six feet below. Or the time Jasper decided the Alsatian at the local dog park was a pony that he could ride, and the Alsatian very much disagreed and bit him deeply on the ankle to tell him so. Please let it not be one of those very awful, very traumatic and very time-consuming accidents that required every ounce of compassion she could muster, not to mention two days’ leave from work. Please not that. Rushing towards the Devines’ front garden, Alex saw Noah’s shoulders heaving behind the low brick wall, and Jasper’s arm around him.
‘What? What is it?’ Alex raced to Noah’s side. ‘Are you hurt? Is something broken? Did Jasper do something to you?’ Jasper pointed and Alex followed his finger to where Talia was wrestling with a ball of fur in the corner of the garden.
‘No, Banjo!’ she cried. ‘No, you can’t. Naughty cat. No.’ She stood with a very fluffy, very squirmy white cat in her arms. Her face was distraught. ‘I’m so sorry.’
At Talia’s feet was Henrietta – the cute, fluffy little guinea pig that Noah and Jasper had wholeheartedly embraced into their lives, even though it wasn’t the puppy they so desperately wanted. Five weeks, and they’d managed not to squash or step on her.
‘Oh dear,’ whispered Alex, drawing the boys in close. ‘I think something very bad has happened to Henrietta.’
For a start, she wasn’t moving, and Henrietta was never not moving. Then there was the fact that her legs were in the air, and seemingly frozen in that position, and her eyes were open. Wide open, and very much not blinking.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Talia shifted her weight from side to side. ‘He’s never done anything like this before. I mean, he gets out, but he’s not a killer.’ At that moment, the cat screeched and squirmed in the girl’s arms as if he wanted another piece of the little dead guinea pig on the grass. Noah and Jasper huddled into Alex’s legs.
‘I think you better take him inside, Talia. I’ll deal with Henrietta.’
Talia nodded and half-ran, half-walked towards her front door, castigating the cat as she went.
‘Is Henny frozen? She looks frozen. Maybe she’s playing statues? To trick us or something.’ As he spoke, Noah kept a tight hold on his mother’s leg, while Jasper eased his grip to take a closer look
‘C’mon, Henny. Wake up. We’re home now. It’s okay, we’ll look after you.’ Jasper touched Henrietta with his toe.
‘Boys, I’m very sorry to say this.’ Alex took a breath. ‘But I think Henrietta is dead.’
‘No, Mummy,’ cried Noah. ‘She’s not dead, she’s just playing a trick on us, aren’t you, Henny?’ He knelt down beside the unmoving guinea pig.
‘I’m sorry, darling. I really am. But I think she’s dead.’
‘Should we try saving her? I’ve seen ambulance people breathe into someone’s mouth to get their hearts going again.’ Jasper, ever the practical one. ‘There’s got to be something we can do.’ He got down beside his brother, opened his mouth and went to put his hands on Henrietta.
‘No, Jasper!’ said Alex quickly, kneeling down next to her sons.
‘What? What’s wrong?’ said Jasper.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea. Let’s leave her in peace.’
‘But why did she have to go and die?’ wailed Noah, burying his head in his hands. ‘Why?’
‘It was the cat.’ Jasper looked towards the Devines’ house. ‘He was probably trying to eat her.’
‘Nooooooo,’ sobbed Noah. ‘Mummy, did Banjo really attack Henny?’
‘Maybe,’ said Alex. Noah wailed harder. ‘No, I don’t mean attack. I think the cat thought Henny was something to play with. That’s what it was. Just play. But Henny probably got a bit of a shock at something so big trying to play with her. I don’t think it was painful, though,’ she went on quickly. ‘Look at her. Not a scratch and certainly no sign of a struggle.’
The boys peered closely.
‘Sometimes, bad things happen to good pets. It’s part of life,’ said Alex. ‘One day you’re alive, and the next you’re not.’
Noah wiped his eyes and peered at her. ‘You mean, I could just wake up one morning and die?’
‘No, no, of course not. Not you, sweetie. You’re not a pet. You’re a human. You won’t die for a long, long time.’ She opened her arms and let Noah crawl into her lap. Damn those people who said getting a pet would be the best thing that ever happened to the boys. That it would teach them valuable lessons about life and death. Where were those people now? Huh? She wanted to have a stern word with them. Pets were just another parenting con. It wasn’t the animal that taught the child anything about life and death, it was the poor parent left behind to deal with the inconsolable child.
‘Do you think Henny’s in heaven now?’ Noah sucked his thumb. Ordinarily Alex would have demanded he take it out, but given the extreme circumstances, she let it go.
‘Yes, definitely,’ Alex said. ‘She was certainly a very well-behaved guinea pig, so I’m sure God has chosen her to be with him.’
Still on her haunches, Alex wobbled a little, feeling slightly dizzy. One hour ago, she’d been in a boardroom, representing one of the firm’s biggest clients in a messy fight over a hostile takeover. Now, here she was, explaining guinea pig heaven to her five year olds. Her brain was spinning. No wonder she suddenly felt unwell. Queasy, in fact.
‘So, you think God killed her?’ Jasper put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Because when Jack’s grandma died, our religion teacher Mrs Appleby said God had chosen her and he should be happy. Like what you said.’
‘No. That’s not what I meant. I meant that God would choose her to be in heaven. Not choose her to die. God doesn’t work like that.’
‘Mrs Appleby says God knows everything we think and do and he forgives everything we do wrong, as long as we say sorry,’ said Noah.
So, this was what they were learning at school. Too much God and not enough basic mathematics. Well, that needed to change. After all, God wouldn’t be the one marking their final exams and giving them a job. Maybe she should put them into the ethics class.
‘I’m sorry, boys. I can see you’re really upset. But believe me, Henrietta did not suffer. I can tell.’
The boys nodded gravely, and Jasper looked up at her, eyebrows raised.
‘So, when can we get a new one?’
‘Jas, Henny hasn’t even been dead five minutes yet. Let’s just give ourselves a chance to be sad. Noah especially.’ Alex stroked her sensitive son’s blonde hair.
‘Yeah, Mum, can we get a new one?’ Noah twisted and smiled up at her. ‘Please, pretty please?’
Ah, children! So present and in the moment that it rendered them almost sociopathically unsentimental.
‘Maybe,’ Alex sighed and lifted Noah off her lap.
Jasper held up a stick. ‘Can I poke her?’
‘No, you may not poke Henrietta with a stick.’
At that moment, the Devines’ front door opened. Charlie, grim-faced and Lycra-clad, jogged down the front steps, followed by a tearful-looking Talia.
Alex took a breath and forgot Henny for a moment to appraise Charlie Devine’s ridiculously perfect body. Not a skerrick of fat. Abs like a rock. A thigh gap you could drive a small car through. And this was in all-white Lycra, which was notoriously fattening. Perhaps there was something to be said for restricting one’s diet to one half of the national emblem.
‘Talia says there’s been some kind of accident.’ Charlie’s long ponytail swung jauntily and her insanely large diamond earrings sparkled in the sun. Were they real? Possibly … the Primal Guy was worth a squillion.
‘Well, actually, it seems your cat must have attacked our guinea pig, and now …’ Alex began before Charlie put her hand up.
‘Oh, I’m so, so sorry.’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘Let me understand this. Banjo came over to your place and got into the hutch and attacked your guinea pig? That’s appalling. I can’t even imagine how he got into it?’ She frowned, and Alex’s inner lawyer stirred. Much as she felt the aggrieved party in this guinea pig death, there were such things as facts, mitigating circumstances and the presumption of innocence.
‘Well, not exactly. You see, the boys were playing with Henny this morning before school, and we were in a bit of a hurry when we left, so we don’t know for sure if she got put back in the cage. But Cuthbert Close is usually such a safe neighbourhood …’
‘So she wasn’t in her hutch for the whole day?’ Charlie delivered the question in a neutral tone as if she was simply trying to ascertain facts but Alex glimpsed what she thought was a raised eyebrow, lifted so slightly as to be almost imperceptible.
Has she had Botox? Is that why I can’t tell if she’s judging my pet-care skills?
When it came to passive aggression, Alex had a particularly highly tuned antenna. There were only two things that threw it out. One of them was Botox, and the other was genuine sincerity, which Alex found very difficult to pick, mostly because it was so rare.
‘Well, yes, she was out of her hutch,’ conceded Alex, feeling a prick of discomfort. ‘But, like I said, this is usually a very safe neighbourhood and normally she doesn’t wander off. Anyway, when we got home we started looking and Talia offered to help, and we found her here, dead on your lawn, with Banjo nearby.’ Alex was babbling. Charlie had said nothing. Her face was surgically inscrutable.
‘So I suppose it was probably our fault in a way that we didn’t properly secure her before we left. We don’t normally let her wander the streets …’ Alex trailed off.
‘But you saw Banjo attacking her? How awful for the boys!’ This time, the frown in Charlie’s forehead was deep – no Botox then – and everything in her face spoke of genuine concern. Yet Alex couldn’t help feeling that she was somehow being played. She’d seen this in courtrooms, how brilliant lawyers could make innocent witnesses look incredibly guilty by asking what seemed like guileless questions but were in fact incredibly astute and cunning ones. It was a skill – one that Alex hadn’t quite mastered … yet.
‘Well, I didn’t actually see it happening,’ Alex admitted. ‘Banjo was in Talia’s arms by the time I got there.’
‘Boys, did you see the cat actually attacking your guinea pig?’ Charlie’s gaze narrowed.
The t
wins shook their heads. ‘Mum says she probably died of shock, but she’s in guinea pig heaven now,’ volunteered Jasper.
‘That’s speculation,’ Alex muttered.
‘Boys, I’m very sad about your loss,’ said Charlie solemnly. ‘I know you’ll say some lovely prayers for your guinea pig when you bury her in the garden.’
Burial? Who has time for a burial? These boys have homework.
‘I don’t think we’ll …’ Alex was cut off from talking by Noah and Jasper pulling on her arm and bouncing up and down.
‘Yes, Mummy, can we have a burial?’ asked Noah.
‘I’ll dig the hole,’ volunteered Jasper.
What’s wrong with rolling Henny up in a plastic bag and putting her in the garbage?
‘Sorry, boys, but we don’t have a shovel, we might just have to …’
Charlie cut in. ‘We can lend you one, if you like.’ She took a few steps around the side of the garage and returned with a small spade. ‘We haven’t quite put everything away properly yet,’ she added, by way of explanation.
‘Oh, fabulous,’ said Alex, straining to sound enthusiastic. ‘I’ll use this to carry her home.’
‘All right then, we’ll leave you to it. Good luck,’ Charlie smiled, put her hand on Talia’s shoulder and directed her gently towards the house. Alex watched them. At one point, the teenager looked around and gave her an apologetic nod. Charlie, on the other hand, didn’t look back at all.
‘Thanks for the spade,’ called Alex, as the front door closed solidly behind them.
‘You could at least have said sorry,’ she muttered under her breath. Admittedly, the evidence was slightly circumstantial and the fact of Henny being on the loose was a mitigating factor. But any fair judge would also find the case compelling beyond reasonable doubt. Charlie Devine’s cat had killed Henrietta, yet Alex was the one saying thank you!
‘Okay boys, let’s get Henny back to our place.’ Reverently, the twins stood by as Alex put the spade under the guinea pig’s lifeless body. As she lifted it, she was struck by the most terrible wave of nausea that rose from her bowels and right into her throat.
