by Jane Frances
Kayisha: So it’s used to its freedom?
Pookie: 5 yrs of nite only curfews
Kayisha: Cats are amazingly adaptable creatures.
Pookie: sounds like u speak from experience
Kayisha: I’ve met more than a few in my day.
Toni considered her next words. Should she use the opening to find out a bit about Kayisha?
Pookie: do u work with animals?
Kayisha: I did. I hope to again soon.
Pookie: so u do something different at the moment?
There was a definite pause. Either Kayisha was typing an extended response, or she didn’t want to respond at all. Toni decided to fill the gap.
Pookie: sorry. didnt mean 2 pry.
Kayisha: That’s ok. I’m sort of in between jobs at the moment.
They were only words on a screen but Toni could read the embarrassment that came with the admission. It seemed unemployment was not a state that sat easily with Kayisha. And unsatisfied curiosity was not a state that sat well with Toni. Should she ask what profession Kayisha sought work in?
Pookie: if u could do any job at all, wot would it b?
Kayisha: I’d be a vet.
Toni smiled. Just about every young girl dreamed of being a vet at some stage. Maybe, even though Kayisha was old enough to be “in between jobs,” she was still young enough to hold onto the dream.
Pookie: i wanted 2 b a vet when i was around 9
Kayisha: What happened?
Pookie: i got hit on the head by an over-affectionate pony at the easter show. been scared witless of the species ever since. cant have a vet thats scared of its patients
Kayisha: I love horses. In fact I applied for a job to work with them just yesterday.
Two images ran through Toni’s head. One of a female jockey, resplendent in her racing colors; the other of a jillaroo, in faded jeans and a khaki shirt, hair flowing as she spurred her mount across endless dusty plains. Toni liked her jillaroo imagery the best. She wondered if Kayisha fit her mental picture.
Pookie: so u ride?
Kayisha: Yes, but not much since I moved to the city. When I was at home I used to ride a lot.
Pookie: home?
Toni learned Kayisha grew up in Geraldton, a regional city a few hundred miles north of Perth. She also learned her childhood best friend lived on a combined sheep and wheat farm six miles out of the city. Along with wheat, sheep and the ubiquitous hens, they stabled a handful of horses. On weekends Kayisha would get up at first light, cycle to the farm and help with the chores just to speed up the time she and her friend could saddle up.
Kayisha: I lived and breathed horses. When I wasn’t riding them, I was thinking about riding them. My room was plastered with pictures of them. I reckon, if I could, I would have slept in the stables.
Pookie: did u have a favorite?
Kayisha: A high-spirited stallion called Rafterey.
Something niggled at Toni’s memory. Rafterey. Why did that name sound so familiar?
Pookie: is that the name of a racehorse? ive heard it b4
Kayisha: Think Radclyffe Hall.
Pookie: stephens horse in the well of loneliness?
Kayisha: Yes! It wasn’t until years later, when I read the book, that I made the connection.
Pookie: coincidence?
Kayisha: I don’t know. My friend’s mum’s sister apparently named him. She was married to another farmer in the area. But I guess that doesn’t mean anything. I love the fact I was riding a horse named after the heroine’s own in one of the most famous lesbian novels of all time.
Pookie: famous maybe, but rather a depressing read
Kayisha: True. I’m so glad I didn’t have to read it in isolation. I mean, there’s so much positive literature out there now, it must have been a real downer for the women back then who had nothing else to compare it to.
Pookie: and a real downer 4 those looking for a few boudoir tips
Kayisha: lol. No, not the most enlightening novel. Like I said, I’m glad I didn’t have to read it in isolation. Or I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea what to do when confronted with a naked woman.
Pookie: lol
Toni actually did laugh out loud. Kayisha’s conversations were dotted with observations that appealed to her sense of humor. Toni imagined, in person, Kayisha would have a very dry delivery, that her expression would be largely unreadable, and for a second you’d wonder if she was joking or not. Toni liked that. She liked Kayisha. The little she knew of her, that was. Toni realized she was still no closer to finding out what Kayisha did, or used to do, for a living. Nor had she expanded on any snippets of information provided about other aspects of her life. Every time Toni seemed at the point of making a discovery, Kayisha veered off on a tangent. Not much, but enough to steer their conversation in a different direction.
Maybe a direct approach was needed. Toni was in the middle of typing “getting back to the horse thing, what job did you apply for?” when Kayisha changed the topic completely.
Kayisha: If I suddenly disappear, it’s because I’ve been booted again.
Toni deleted her question.
Pookie: ok
Kayisha: I’m just warning you, because it happens out of the blue.
Pookie: ok
Kayisha: We can talk again later? If I get back in? Toni smiled at the screen.
Pookie: sure thing. how about 7pm in this room if u get the boot?
Kayisha: It’s a date.
Five minutes later Kayisha suddenly disappeared. Toni felt immediate disappointment. Then she remembered she had “a date.” She checked her watch. In two and a bit hours she would be speaking to Kayisha again.
Suddenly hungry, Toni put her computer to sleep and went in search of food.
Chapter Twelve
“Mum.” Ashley’s voice held a plaintive whine, despite the volume of delivery. He called from the media room, “Courtney’s hogging the controls again.”
“Courtney,” Tricia called back. “Let your brother play.”
“But, Mum.” Another plaintive voice emanated from the media room. “He can’t play properly. He mucks it all up.”
Tricia assumed her end of discussion voice. “Courtney. I’m not going to tell you again…let your brother have one of the controls.” She plucked a nearly empty bottle of wine from the ice bucket. It was tipped to Emma’s glass. “I pray for the day they turn eighteen and move out. A top-up?”
“Not for me, thanks.” Emma placed her hand over her glass, letting Tricia take the remnants of the wine. She leaned back in her sturdy jarrah chair, one of six that surrounded the outdoor table located under a pitched-roof gazebo. The remains of their Sunday lunch of barbequed ribs had been cleared away by John, Tricia’s husband. He was currently busying himself with the dishes—an occurrence Tricia declared an absolute miracle and another reason she should go away more often. Her sons, nine-year-old Ashley and twelve-year-old Courtney, had found the lack of activity around the table outrageously dull and retired to the media room to squabble over the PlayStation. Emma took a sip of her wine. “You’re a bit ambitious if you think they’ll leave home at eighteen. Latest stats show boys are staying at home longer than ever. Some even until their thirties.”
Tricia threw her head back and groaned. “God save me!”
Emma knew Tricia wouldn’t be without her boys, all three of them if you included her husband. While she’d never voice it out loud in company, she had missed her family while away. It showed. The hugs for the boys that lasted just that bit longer than usual—which, when done in company produced mortified wails of “Mum!”—and the affectionate touches between husband and wife that said “I’m glad you’re here with me again.”
Emma laughed and said, “You’ll be a wreck when they go.”
“Not a chance. I’ll be there with a cattle prod to help them out the door.” Tricia downed the last of her wine, placed her glass next to the ice bucket and called in the direction of the house, “John, be a love and put t
he kettle on for a coffee.”
Five minutes later Tricia accepted the mug and the kiss on the cheek that came with it.
“Thanks, sweetie.” She offered Emma the plate of cookies John had also delivered. “You’d better take one now before the vultures get wind of them and descend.”
Sure enough, within a minute Ashley and Courtney had pushed and jostled each other out the door, grabbed a cookie for each hand, shoved a third in their mouths and left nothing but their dust and a smattering of crumbs on the plate.
Emma watched the prepubescent tornado go through. No wonder Tricia stayed so slim, if she had to fight for every morsel. Emma took a bite of her cookie.
“So, Emma.” Tricia left her own cookie dangerously unattended on her plate. “What are you going to do now?”
Emma took her time chewing. Within minutes of arriving at Tricia’s she announced her resignation, but since then family, food and the veterinary conference dominated the conversation. She took a sip of her coffee. The proposal she had been rehearsing in her head was reasonable. Tricia’s practice was busy to the point of being overly so. For one vet. But if there were two to share the load…Emma swallowed the cookie and coffee combination with some difficulty. She took another sip of her coffee before saying, “I’ve been applying for some jobs. One in Albany and a couple interstate. But I’d much rather stay in Perth if I could. I was thinking…”
Later that afternoon Emma hugged Tricia’s husband. “Thanks again, John. Your ribs are just the best. And, Tricia”—in turn she hugged Tricia—“I’ll see you Friday.”
Tricia held Emma at arm’s length, looking her straight in the eye as she asked, “And you’ll think about the other?”
“I will.” Emma nodded. She pulled keys from her jeans pocket, jangling them in her hand as she called down the hall. “See you later, boys.”
A muffled duet came from the media room. “ ’Bye, Auntie Em.”
Emma slid behind the wheel of her station wagon, which she’d parked on Tricia’s driveway. Her feelings were mixed as she reversed onto the street. She was elated at securing part-time work at Tricia’s practice. Two days a week: Fridays and Saturdays. However, her hopes of walking into full-time employment were dashed.
“I just can’t afford to take on someone full-time, Em.” Tricia had gestured toward the house when Emma suggested the idea. “Not while the bank still owns most of this.”
Emma nodded her understanding. Never mind feeding the hefty mortgage Emma knew Tricia and her husband carried on their house, she could imagine the boys also ate their way through a mountain of profits.
“But,” Tricia continued, “my rooms are definitely underutilized. If you would consider buying into the practice…”
The thought of being part-owner of a practice, especially in partnership with someone she trusted on both a professional and personal level, was a dream come true. But still just a dream. Just as she’d told Pete, there was no money tree growing in her back garden.
Emma eased her foot off the throttle as she neared the end of Tricia’s street, promising to do as Tricia said and give the idea some serious thought. For now she had another task to accomplish. She turned onto the freeway as if heading for home but got off one exit early. She was heading for Mt. Hawthorn, to Toni’s. Her task was bridge repair.
Once parked, Emma double-checked the street number against the one written on the slip of paper she extracted from a shirt pocket. Confident she had the right house, she reached for her sturdy leather doctor’s bag. Hopefully Toni would be softened to Emma’s apology by a home visit to remove Virgil’s stitches.
The rush of adrenaline Emma recognized as nervousness nearly sent her scurrying back to her car, but she walked through it and knocked on Toni’s front door.
“Emma.” Despite knowing the identity of her visitor due to the peephole she’d had installed just after Christmas, Toni could not disguise the surprise in her voice when she opened her front door. Her first thought was to wonder how Emma knew her address, but of course it would be on the practice’s client database. Toni imagined the word debtor flashing across her details in big red letters, and her mind flitted to the envelope still propped against her printer. Then she wondered if Emma had taken on debt collection as one of her duties in Tricia’s absence. Then she realized she should say something instead of standing at the entrance wondering all these things. “Hello.”
“Hi, Toni.” The leather bag Emma carried was hefted, just a little. “I hope you don’t mind my dropping by. I thought I’d see how Virgil’s doing. Remove her stitches.”
“Oh.” Toni stood aside to let Emma in. She adjusted the collar of her pajamas and raked fingers through her hair, flustered by the appearance of the last person she had expected to visit. Toni gave a quick thought to her friend Monica, who had stopped by that morning with a fresh pot of chicken soup and an offer to take Virgil to the vet after work on Monday. “I’d actually arranged with a friend to take Virg into the surgery tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Now Emma appeared flustered. She stood in the hallway, both hands grasping the handle of her doctor’s bag. “Well, it’s really no trouble. It will only take a couple of minutes.”
“Sure. Come through.” Toni figured she could ring Monica and cancel. She ushered Emma in the direction of the formal lounge, where she knew Virgil was sleeping. “Um, can I get you a drink of something?”
“Water would be good. Thanks.” Virgil lay on one end of the three-seater couch. Toni watched Emma sit next to her and hold out her hand to be sniffed. “Hi, girl. How are you?”
When Toni returned to the lounge room, Emma gave a distracted acknowledgment to the glass placed in front of her on the coffee table. Her attention was focused on removing Virgil’s bandage.
“It’s still quite intact,” she said as she snipped carefully with a pair of surgical scissors. “You’ve done well with her, Toni.”
“Yes.” Toni watched the removal of the bandage intently. What had Emma expected? That she’d just ignore all instructions and let Virgil loose on the world? Maybe Emma had expected that. After all, the “Cats and the Environment” fact sheet included with Virgil’s bill was a sure indicator of what Emma thought of her pet-ownership skills. “I’ve kept her indoors since she got home. I did take the cone off her at mealtimes. Let her groom a bit. But it went back on as soon as she went for the bandage.”
The last of the bandage was removed and placed onto the coffee table, next to the two cans of chickpeas Toni left there for her now daily exercise routine. Toni leaned forward for a closer look at Virgil’s shortened tail. It no longer tapered at the end, coming instead to an abrupt, stumpy halt. But the skin appeared healthy and the wound was clean with no sign of inflammation or seepage.
“This has healed beautifully.” Emma stroked Vigil from her nose to the base of her spine. To Toni’s amazement, Virgil closed her eyes and purred. Emma reached into her bag and extracted another, smaller pair of surgical scissors. “Can you help me for a minute?”
“Sure.” Toni knelt next to the couch and held Virgil firmly in place while Emma removed the stitches. “It’s okay, Virg,” she reassured her friend, who was, surprisingly, showing no signs of distress at the attention. The whole procedure was over in less than a minute.
“You’re free to go, Virgil.” This time Emma ran her hands from nose tip to tail tip. Virgil swiveled her head and nuzzled her nose into Emma’s palm. Then she stood and stretched, jumped lithely off the couch and sauntered across the room, stumpy tail held high, as if showing it off.
Toni was so happy she almost cried. She would be eternally grateful to the woman who, in her eyes, had saved her best friend’s life. “Thank you, Emma.”
“My pleasure.” The scissors were placed back in her bag and the bandage, stitches and cone collar bundled into one hand. “If you can point me in the direction of the trash can.”
Toni pointed the way to the kitchen but followed behind her. “While you’re here I’ve got the check
for Virgil’s bill.”
In turn, Emma followed Toni to the study. Toni plucked the envelope from its home against the printer and handed it over. “I know it’s late, but I was going to send it with Virgil tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Toni.” Emma seemed more concerned with the array of equipment in the room. She took a step toward the desk. “Wow, this is some setup you’ve got here.”
“I updated last year.” Toni stood next to Emma. “Certainly beats the old clunker I had before.”
“I bet. I’ve still got an old clunker.” Emma nodded toward the printer. “Is this one of those multifunction thingos?”
“Uh-huh. Fax, scan, photocopy, print.”
The monitor was next for attention. “LCD screen?”
“Uh-huh. Twenty-inch.”
“And of course it’s Internet-ready?”
“Of course.”
“Broadband?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is it really all it’s cracked up to be? I was speaking to someone just the other day who reckons it beats dial-up hands down.”
“They’re right. I’d never go back to dial-up.”
“What about the cost? It’s expensive?”
“Depends what your needs are. Hang on a moment.” Toni opened a drawer of her filing cabinet and pulled out a folder. From it she extracted the promotional brochure for her ISP. “Here, this is the company I use. You can have it if you like.”
Somewhat surprised at the unlikely common ground they had found, Toni continued with the computer theme as they walked back to the lounge room. “So you reckon you may upgrade to broadband?”
“I’m thinking of it.” Emma glanced to the brochure Toni had given. “Are you sure you don’t mind my keeping this?”
“Go for your life.”
“Thanks.” Emma sat, perching on the edge of the couch to slip the brochure and envelope into her bag. She clipped the bag closed, her gaze settling on the two cans of chickpeas. If she wondered why anyone would keep tins of legumes on the coffee table, her expression did not give her thoughts away. Emma looked up, meeting Toni directly in the eye. “Toni, I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I acted the other week. I was going through some…stuff…and I’m afraid I took it out on you.”
