Mrs. Barry had cooked roast beef and dumplings with baby carrots and beans, followed by cheesecake. Even Cindy in her most sullen and critical mood had to admit that Mrs. Barry was a marvelous cook, and her father was enjoying every mouthful.
The professor had a second helping of cheesecake with his coffee. He and Mrs. Barry then retired to the lounge room to listen to Elizabethan ballads.
Cindy washed dishes in an efficient, bored silence. Constance was in an almost friendly mood. Prunella burst out with the reason for the friendly atmosphere.
“Your pool is getting refilled, and Mother said we could have a pool party if the professor doesn’t mind.”
“He doesn’t like noise or racket.”
“He wouldn’t mind if you invited your friends as well,” Constance suggested.
“I don’t have any friends interested in pool parties.”
“You do so.” Prunella itemized them on her fingers. “There’s Jennifer Morgan, Gretta Carson, Thumb, Jim Plumstead, and Thumb’s little sister, Carrots.”
“Her name is Bettina,” Cindy corrected.
It was true that Thumb’s little sister had flaming red hair and freckles, but only her friends were allowed to call her Carrots.
Cindy thought about the idea of a pool party as she wiped down the sink. It was another way to throw her father and Jennifer together. Her father liked swimming.
“We could have it on Sunday. Do we invite people to eat as well as swim?”
“Ask the professor,” Constance urged. “Perhaps we could have a barbecue with fresh bread and salads and make plenty of lemon cordial.”
Her father looked pleased when Cindy asked about having the guests for a barbecue. “A very good idea. I’ll get out the barbecue,” he promised.
Prunella and Constance invited Cindy upstairs to their untidy bedroom to plan everything.
“Who are you inviting?” Cindy cleared a space on the floor to sit and waited with pen poised over paper.
“There’s Frazzle,” Constance said. “I know you don’t like her, but she is my particular friend.”
“I don’t mind her.”
After the incident in the park, Frazzle had approached Cindy at school the next day and apologized.
“I didn’t realize your cat was upset until he bit me, and Jim Plumstead said it was childish to tease cats.”
“And there’s Jim Plumstead’s two mates, Jeremy and Rork,” Prunella said eagerly. “Absolute spunks.”
It was a very short guest list. Cindy chewed her pen. It was hardly worth the trouble of the Barry girls to be nice to her. Then again, Constance and Prunella weren’t into girlfriends, so perhaps it was just a complicated way of spending the day with Jim and his two friends.
They worked out the quantities of bread and salad and decided to use plastic cups and paper plates. Cindy assured the others it wasn’t going to be any trouble to order the meat.
The conversation petered out. Constance hunted through a well-thumbed pile of recipes, and Prunella picked up a paperback to read from the pile in their shoe cupboard.
“What are you reading?”
“Deathless Love,” Prunella sighed.
“Trash.”
“It is not,” Prunella said earnestly. “Every bit of it is absolutely true. It’s about this guy secretly in love who sends one red rose every anniversary of their meeting. It’s terribly romantic.”
Cindy leaned over her shoulder to read the open page. “It’s terribly mushy.”
“But people behave like that when they are secretly in love.”
“They do?”
“You’re just too young to understand,” Constance interrupted in a pitying manner.
Cindy was not convinced. She couldn’t see anyone wasting good money to send Mrs. Barry red roses. It was just too ridiculous.
Suddenly, a dazzlingly brilliant idea flashed into her mind. For a few seconds, she was open-mouthed at the magnificent simplicity of it.
“You ready to leave, Cindy?” the professor called.
“Coming, Dad.”
“Thanks for everything. See you both Sunday morning.” Cindy gave Prunella and Constance a flashing happy smile.
Constance looked suspicious, and Prunella pleased. Cindy almost felt grateful. Without knowing it, the Barry girls had shown her the way to help along the romance between her father and Jennifer.
Chapter Eleven
“Sure you don’t mind?” Gretta asked.
“No trouble at all,” Cindy said, still puffing.
She had rushed into the surgery straight after school. She cleaned out and scrubbed all the pens and hutches with strong disinfectant and finished by running the polisher over the gleaming floor of the waiting room.
“You’re the only cleaner I’ve ever had who really earns her money,” Gretta said as she paid over the thirty dollars.
“No trouble,” Cindy repeated. “See you later.”
She rode her bike fast towards the florist on the outskirts of the shopping center.
“Why do I have to pay twenty dollars for a single rose that only costs eight dollars?” she demanded of the bored attendant.
“Packaging and delivery. What do you want on the card?”
“No name.”
It was romantic to send one red rose from an unknown admirer. The trouble was how could the message be passed on to Jennifer who the unknown admirer was?
“Married, is he?” sniffed the attendant.
“Of course,” Cindy said. How silly was the attendant? What was wrong with her father being married?
Her father and Jennifer often discussed Robbie Burns and his poetry. Surely that should be hint enough?
“Just print ‘my love is like a red red rose’ on the card.”
Cindy rushed out of the shop with an anxious look at the clock. She hated being late for the aerobics class, but she skidded in just in time. After her class, Jennifer, who was coming for dinner as soon as the next session finished, gave her a bag of salad.
“Just scrape everything and leave soaking in cold, salted water until I arrive.”
Cindy pedaled home. Sometimes life was so full of things happening that she forgot for long periods at a time the cloud hanging over her life. This afternoon, the workmen were lining the garage and putting on new doors.
“It’s to be used as a storeroom,” a workman explained. “Tomorrow we start on the carport.”
Cindy scraped and soaked the salad vegetables as ordered. She tidied the dining room and set the table. All the tidying up was becoming habit. Nowadays the dining room always looked tidy. She rushed out to feed the animals before Jennifer, Gretta, and her father arrived together.
The house seemed suddenly bursting with people, talk, and laughter. Gretta put Horace down, and he streaked to his accustomed place on the window ledge beside Pearl.
“What was wrong with him?” Cindy asked.
“A calcium deficiency,” Gretta explained. “Make sure he gets plenty of the special cat milk, and I’ll order in more tablets for him.”
Cindy wasn’t sure how it happened, but they all sat around the kitchen table preparing salad, her father objecting to being left alone in the dining room.
Jennifer was very knowledgeable about diet, and even the professor became interested. They talked about recipes and correct eating. After the crumbed veal and salads, they cleaned up the kitchen and kept on talking about food.
Cindy let Jim in, Hooper puffing at his heels. The discussion switched to the pool party on Sunday. Gretta promised pavlovas and cheesecake, and Jennifer offered to make the salads.
“Sounds like everyone will sink if they go into the pool after all that,” the professor chuckled. “I’ll appoint myself as lifeguard.”
There was a last chorus of good-byes, and then everyone was gone and the house its quiet echoing self again.
Cindy sighed happily as she came back inside. “That was a really nice evening.”
“It certainly was, Cindy.” Her fath
er had a thoughtful look on his face.
The week flew past. The carport got built and the garage stored with boxes of books and furniture. Workmen invaded the house repairing, painting, and papering. The upstairs rooms were suddenly clean, echoing, and spacious. The bathrooms acquired new baths and basins, floral taps, and lots of gleaming white tiles. The smell of paint lingered in the air.
Cindy and her father slept downstairs in the two parlors among a crowded clutter of books, furniture, and clothes. Pearl and Horace lurked under upturned sofas and tables, snarling and attacking the white-clad legs of the workmen.
On Friday evening, Jennifer prepared Mexican bean salad. Gretta, who dropped in with more tablets for Horace, stayed to eat. Afterwards, the professor went into the study.
“Sorry to be antisocial,” he apologized. “I’ve got to get this stuff out of the way. End of the year approaching, you know!”
Cindy glared at him.
“I’ll leave the door open,” he promised with a chuckle.
Cindy had stopped feeling so happy. Time was running out fast, and still her father hadn’t broken off with Mrs. Barry.
“It’s all right, Freddy,” Gretta said. “We promise not to disturb you.”
A knock at the front door was Miss Hopkins clutching a dangling and defiant Horace. “He came visiting again.”
Cindy invited Miss Hopkins in, took Horace into the kitchen, and dosed him on his tablets. She and Horace then returned to the dining room. Miss Hopkins sipped coffee and listened to the discussion on diet and muscle tone.
“I think you would find dieting very beneficial, Gretta,” she said. “You have been over-indulgent with your food for far too long.”
“I like cooking and eating. I don’t see it matters that much.”
“Well, it does matter,” Miss Hopkins snorted in her severe schoolteacher voice. “Correct eating gives you everything you need for a happy life.”
“Everything?” Gretta burst out.
“Everything!” Miss Hopkins snapped back.
There was silence. Horace watched Miss Hopkins, his fur standing on end and his eyes crossed in concentration. Miss Hopkins watched Gretta, her glasses in her hand.
Without glasses, Miss Hopkins looked different. Her face was oval, not round, and her gray brows arched high over stern eyes. Gretta looked unhappy and resentful, almost sulky, but they were only discussing theories on diet!
A loud knock sounded. Miss Hopkins put her glasses back on and looked ordinary again. Gretta was an overflowing huddle on the small stool. Cindy let Mrs. Barry in. Her smile was gracious, but her watchful eyes lingered on Jennifer.
“Nice to see you, Guinevere,” the professor muttered from the study and without looking up. “Cindy! Get Mrs. Barry a cup of coffee.”
Cindy went into the kitchen and found the cracked cup and the odd saucer. The coffee was still hot so she filled half the cup with tap water. She remembered Mrs. Barry didn’t take sugar and stirred in several spoonfuls. Mrs. Barry sipped and darted a look of pure venom at Cindy.
Miss Hopkins glanced at her watch, and the light caught across the blank moons of her glasses. “Dear me,” she announced. “Time I was leaving.”
Horace lifted his head, growled deep in his throat, and jumped into Miss Hopkins’s lap.
“You stay here, Horace,” Miss Hopkins said sternly as she dropped him on the floor. “I’m not having any nonsense from you.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Gretta offered. “We’re just waiting for Jim to turn up.”
There was a soft double knock. Cindy ran to let Jim and Hooper in. Hooper wheezed heavily as he waddled in.
“Heard about Jennifer and her secret admirer?” Jim announced. “All the boarders are accusing each other.”
“Sounds exciting,” Gretta chuckled.
“Big mystery,” Jim continued. “He sent one red rose with a mush quotation and no signature.”
“Flirting again, Jennifer?” the professor teased.
Cindy noticed with glee that Jennifer was actually blushing as Gretta shepherded everyone out.
“How quaint,” Mrs. Barry said with a sneer, which was remarkably similar to Constance’s. She swept gracefully into the kitchen and tipped her untouched coffee into the sink. “Like a fresh cup, Godfrey?” she purred.
“That would be nice.”
Cindy said goodnight and went to the cluttered sitting room to where her bed was set up. For once, she wasn’t a bit upset about leaving her father and Mrs. Barry together. Jennifer had blushed! She had guessed whom the rose was from! Next week, Cindy would send her another red rose with the next line of the poem.
She fell asleep wondering how soon she could sign her father’s name to the rose and would she sign “Godfrey” or “Freddy”.
Chapter Twelve
Cindy dived one more time and bobbed to the surface, blinking water from her eyes. She swam slowly to the steps.
It was a fine warm day, with just the slightest of cool breezes. The professor, looking fit and muscular in his faded shorts and chef’s cap, was over by the barbecue, turning sausages and teasing Carrots.
“I’ve cooked seventy sausages, Bettina. There are only six left! Are you sure you haven’t eaten sixty-four sausages?”
Carrots giggled, showing the gaps in her teeth, and held out her plate for another sausage.
Mrs. Barry stretched out on the banana lounge, wearing large sunglasses, a broad-brimmed hat, pink knee-length shorts, a loose striped top, and an air of smug complacency. She was the one guest who spoiled Cindy’s enjoyment.
“Why is she coming?” Cindy had asked as her car pulled up.
Prunella and Constance had arrived hours earlier to help with the preparations, but Cindy hoped that Mrs. Barry would have the decency to stay away.
“Because she’s invited,” her father had replied in his most frosty voice.
Gretta and Jennifer arrived with their salads, Pavlovas, and cheesecakes. They made a long table out of the painter’s trestles and planks and covered it with a sheet. They set the food out and made a big bowl of fruit punch.
The boys had turned up with little Carrots in tow and descended on the food with great appreciation.
After awhile, not even Mrs. Barry had the power to spoil the day. The professor hummed to himself as he cooked the meat. Even Frazzle was on her best behavior. She had arrived dressed in a tight-fitting jumpsuit and high-heeled sandals, and wearing lots of eye shadow, mascara, and smeared lipstick, hair frizzed high. Once in the pool with her makeup washed off and her hair slicked down, she seemed younger and nicer.
“Want some fruit cup before the boys finish it all off?” Gretta asked Cindy. “I’m sticking to diet lemonade.”
Cindy took a sip and then wrinkled her nose. She knew exactly what was in the fruit cup. Mint leaves and passion fruit floated on the top, and in its depths lurked pineapple and peach slices and the occasional cherry.
“It tastes funny. You shouldn’t have put in all that lemon juice. It’s made it too bitter.”
She poured herself a glass of lemon cordial. Gretta relaxed back on the rug and returned to her book.
Health and Beauty, read Cindy in surprise.
She studied Gretta more closely. Gretta only read veterinary journals and reports on obscure animal illnesses. Today Gretta wore new bathers, and her hair was combed properly. She also wore soft pink lipstick.
“You don’t look like you without that extra layer of podge around your middle.”
Gretta’s husky chuckle rang across the pool. The professor looked up from his cooking.
“Share it, Gretta,” he called.
“A secret, Freddy,” Gretta called back and winked at Cindy. “I’m dieting, believe it or not.”
Thumb and Jennifer were still in the water. Jennifer wore brief bikinis that showed off her golden tan.
Cindy hoped the professor was comparing her to the white-skinned Mrs. Barry. “Jennifer’s got a beaut figure.”
“A tribut
e to exercise and diet,” Gretta said. “Did you know she was once shaped like me?”
Cindy looked disbelieving. Jennifer could never have been as fat as Gretta. She sneaked another look at Gretta. Gretta was one of Cindy’s favorite people, and if you liked a person inside, you didn’t notice their outside appearance.
Today Gretta looked as nice on the outside as she was on the inside. Her skin wasn’t as muddy or blotchy, her dark hair had a shine to it, and in the striped bloused bathers, she almost had a waistline.
Hooper barked, as Jim, Jeremy, and Rork scrambled out of the pool. There had been some discussion as to whether Hooper was to be banished, but he had groveled abjectly, his sad eyes promising model behavior, so he was enjoying the pool party with the rest of them.
“What about more chops?” Jim requested.
“After all that pav?” the professor gasped in amazement as he speared chops off the hot plate.
The boys grinned. They ate their slices of cheesecake with spring onions and washed everything down with plastic cups of fruit punch.
Thumb waded out of the water and ate a slice of Pavlova, washing it down with the punch. Constance’s high-pitched titter rose into the air. She and Frazzle sat by the fishpond, their heads together over their plates of fruit salad.
The professor turned off the barbecue and stretched out on a banana lounge and closed his eyes. The boys went back into the water.
Cindy looked up and noticed that the gate of the pen was open. Amanda trotted out, nervous and bewildered by all the people in the normally quiet yard.
“Look out, Prunella, the goat is going to butt you,” Frazzle shrieked as she and Constance nudged each other with glee.
Prunella saw the goat heading for her and started to run. Amanda, recognizing Prunella as a friend, followed her. Prunella ran around the pool to get away and stumbled over her mother, causing the banana lounge to collapse.
“Really, Prunella!” Mrs. Barry said crossly, picking herself up. “Do stop being silly.”
Cindy Jones Page 5
