‘This was just not a good thing to do,’ he said, putting the emails on a heap on my desk. ‘But I do understand that you were worried and I admire both you and Polly for your writing skills. You’ve put me in a very difficult position, Magenta. I think this woman is genuinely looking for someone to share her life with...’
‘And you’re not? You want to grow old all by yourself beside a pile of library books?’
‘That’s enough, Magenta. As I was saying, you’ve put this woman and me in a very awkward position. I think we have to meet her – if only to apologise. You will come along with me and you’ll tell her the whole truth. I think we owe her that much. She’s put a lot of effort into this communication.’
"So have I!"
‘That’s rather the point,’ Dad said grimly. ‘I haven’t – but she thinks I have and she’s told you – not me – intimate details of her life. We owe her a big apology.’
In the end Dad sent Spooky a longish email, saying that he’d like to meet her for coffee but he’d be bringing me along, to clear up certain issues. I thought it sounded ominous but Dad said that it was an adult thing and probably Spooky would guess before she even met us for coffee and that would lessen the blow.
‘You might like her,’ I pointed out sleepily.
‘I might. But I doubt it – I mean I’m sure she’s a very nice person, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Magenta. She sounds a little...’
‘She’s just lonely,’ I said, ‘that’s all. Anyone can be lonely.’
‘That’s true,’ Dad said, ‘but I’ve got you, Magenta.’ He kissed me goodnight and I wondered briefly why he sounded sad when he said that, but I was too tired to give it any proper thought.
Five-star Expectations
Dad was on the computer checking his email when I got up the next morning.
‘She must be keen,’ he said. ‘Look, Mags, she replied within ten minutes of us sending my email. She must have been sitting on her computer.’
‘She could’ve just been googling stuff,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t mean she was waiting for you to reply.’ But I didn’t say it with much conviction. In my experience Spooky replied with unexpected speed.
‘Poor woman,’ Dad said. ‘Listen, she’s going to bring along her son, too. Cal, she’s bringing Cal. Well, that will be good – it means she’s not expecting any romance.’
‘How could she when you said you’d bring me along?’
‘That’s true – still, it’s gracious of her to reciprocate by bringing along her child. I think that’s quite brave of her.’
‘Are we still going to tell her it was me that set up your profile and wrote the emails?’ I felt Dad’s attitude to the whole thing was softening.
‘We certainly are, Magenta.’
Apparently his position hadn’t weakened enough.
‘So when do we meet them?’
‘She’s suggested mid-week, after school. She only lives two suburbs away. That’s interesting. Perhaps we should go to that organic place? The one with the great chocolate muffins. I bet Cal eats chocolate muffins.’
‘Sure,’ I said. I wasn’t worried about Cal, I liked chocolate muffins.
‘So, I’ll email her back later and arrange it all,’ Dad said. ‘Now, don’t you have school today?’
I was already halfway out of the room – I wanted to get to school to tell Polly the latest update. This was getting exciting.
‘So he’s agreed to see her?’ Polly said, balancing her books in a precarious pile under one arm as she ferreted around in her locker for her pencil case. ‘That’s got to be a good start. And you weren’t grounded.’
‘But I have to explain it all to her,’ I pointed out. ‘That’s not so great. And her son will be there – which will make it twice as embarrassing.’
‘He might be very cool,’ Polly said. ‘Though it’s probably against the rules for step-siblings to fall in love.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Polly. It’s coffee.’
‘Everything starts with coffee,’ Polly raised her eyebrows, ‘don’t you know that yet, Magenta McPhee?’
When I got home from school, Dad was still on the computer. It was such an unusual sight that I misjudged throwing my school bag on the couch and it landed on the glass-topped coffee table with a crash.
‘Do be more careful, Magenta,’ Dad said, without looking up.
‘What are you doing?’
He turned around then, looking a bit sheepish, ‘Oh, just, you know, talking to Lianna.’
‘On MSN?’
‘Yes, is there anything wrong with that?’
‘No, of course not, but I didn’t think you were interested...’
‘She was asking my advice about Cal,’ Dad said, sounding a little defensive. ‘She’s worried about the lack of male role models in his life. She’s worried that he’s too protective of her. Well, I know what that feels like!’
‘I’m not protective!’ I protested, ‘I just want you to have a life.’
‘Whereas Cal gets worried when Lianna has a life,’ Dad said. ‘Same problem, different outcome.’
‘I’m just glad you’re all getting on so well,’ I said, ‘and now I have homework to do, so don’t let me disturb you, Dr Max.’
‘Who’s huffy?’ Dad laughed.
‘Not me, I’ve just got things to do.’
Without the added hassle of inventing Dad’s emails, I sped through my homework and had time to work on the Chronicles. I decided that the whole kissing question could be left on the parapet and I should concentrate on Holly instead. I did the three-stars thing writers do when they want to change scene without starting a new chapter.
* * *
In her corner, Holly waited for something to happen. The worst thing about the dungeon, apart from the dark and the rats, was the boredom. She tried to remember all the spells she’d ever been taught and managed to make a little dancing light that she couldn’t keep still. It spun around the dungeon, lighting up the piles of rubble on the floor, the scratch marks on the stone walls that she imagined were made by past prisoners, and the odd tail-flick of a scared rat. The dungeon was just as bad seen in the light as it had felt in the dark, but the light was comforting, and Holly felt less helpless because she had made it happen.
I sat up straighter. That was how I should feel about Dad and Spooky. Sure, I had to explain to her that I was responsible for Dad’s early emails, but, in the end, he was talking to her on MSN. I’d made that happen. The idea of meeting Spooky seemed less daunting.
Holly started to follow the light around the cell, looking for a way out. There wasn’t one. The door was thick wood with great iron bars running both ways. The one little window was bolted shut from the other side and set flush against the door – letting not even the thinnest streak of light in from the outside. It wasn’t until Holly’s little light danced on the roof of the cell that she saw another window, high up in the wall. Although it was barred, there was no wooden shutter – it was open. Though to what, Holly had no idea. She guessed, from the fact that no light shone through it, that it was just open to the next cell. It was far too high for her to investigate but it was there, that was something. Just as the light danced away to another place, there was a meow from the window and she caught the green light of a cat’s eyes.
‘Eclipse?’ she whispered.
‘Meow.’
‘Oh Eclipse, can you jump?’
‘Meow.’
‘But perhaps you’d better not, you’d never get back up there from down here and you’re more use to me outside than trapped in here with me, much as I’d like company.’
‘Meow.’
I stopped writing. I wasn’t sure about adding all Eclipse’s meows. To me, when I said them aloud, they all sounded different, but would a reader be able to grasp th
at? I doubted it. If I read woofs in a book, for example, they’d all just sound like woofs. I’d have to send Eclipse away or give him the power of speech. I didn’t want to do that. A bit of telepathy, maybe, but no speech. I hated books with talking animals. It was just cheating. Fortunately it was bedtime, so I could stop. As I cleaned my teeth I wondered how adult writers managed, who had no bedtime or even homework to do. Did they just work on and on until they were so tired they had to stop? Or did they invent things that had to be done when they couldn’t write any more?
I decided that when I was a grown-up writer, I’d have a whole list of things I had to do. That way I could stop writing whenever I felt like it. I’d copy the list Mum kept on her mobile phone: Pay Bills, Do Laundry, Cook Ahead, Meeting Preparation! But I’d add some good things too: Go to Beach, See Movie, Play Flying Hamsters!
Dad said he’d pick me up at school on Wednesday and that way we’d arrive at the Chocolate Bean café about the same time as Cal and Spooky, who I had to remember to call Lianna.
‘But then I’ll still be in school uniform.’
‘So?’
‘Dad, it’s sooo daggy. No one gets seen anywhere in uniform if they can help it.’
I’d had my outfit planned. I was going to wear my black jeans and the purple velvet top Dad had got for me at the op shop. It was a little bit goth, but not so goth it looked as though I needed to be completely pale and wearing too much black eye make-up, particularly if I wore it with my patterned sneakers. It would be an outfit entirely suited to someone who was writing her first fantasy novel and who might be excused for worrying about her dad so much she put his profile up on an Internet dating site without his permission. Also, there was Cal. He might just turn out to be ... well, not like Richard, of course, but to have potential.
‘You’re not being seen anywhere,’ Dad said, ‘we’re just all having coffee at the Chocolate Bean.’
‘I just thought I’d wear something good. Can’t we whiz home first? Just so I can change quickly? I’d only be a minute.’
‘Magenta, I’m not going to be late, okay? Being on time is a matter of courtesy. I think the least we owe Lianna and her son is a little courtesy. Don’t forget why we’re meeting them.’
‘Okay,’ I sighed heavily. I cheered myself up by wearing my favourite lip gloss – Pinkly Bare – and putting the tiniest bit of mascara on my eyelashes. Actually it wasn’t my mascara but a tube I’d borrowed from Mum so it was a bit sticky and I ended up with drops of it stuck to the end of my lashes so I had to scrub most of it off with a flannel.
‘You look tired,’ Polly said the minute she saw me. ‘Were you up late planning what to say on the Big Day?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘You’ve got dark circles under your eyes,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’ve just inherited them from your dad. I’m going to go grey early, according to Jane. But you can always use dye to fix that. You’d better put some concealer on before you meet Spooky’s son.’
‘I haven’t got any concealer,’ I said. ‘It can’t be that bad, Dad didn’t say anything.’
When we went into the girls’ toilet, though, I could see what Polly meant. The underneath of my eyes – the left in particular – was kind of dark. I dabbed Polly’s cover-up stick at the shadows.
‘I didn’t know you used this stuff,’ I said, examining it.
‘I don’t,’ Polly said darkly, ‘it’s Jane’s. She makes me carry around spare stuff in case she forgets. It was after the enormous-hormonal-pimple episode. She had to meet a client. You can imagine the rest. I tell you, that woman has already cost me years of wages in future therapy.’
‘What do I do now? It looks as though I’ve got some skin condition just underneath my eyes.’
‘You dab it with a wet flannel. We’ll have to use toilet paper. That kind of smooths it into your skin.’
When we dabbed some of the dark shadows came away with the Peachy Beige concealer.
‘Mascara,’ I said, examining the toilet paper. ‘That’s a relief. I’d hate to end up looking like Dad.’
‘Maybe you’ll just go grey early,’ Polly said, flushing away the evidence. ‘So you’ve prepared your speech? Or just your make-up? Which I assume is for the boy’s benefit?’
‘I’m going to wing it.’ I ignored Polly’s last remark. ‘I think it will sound better if it’s more natural.’
‘The spontaneous effect,’ Polly nodded. ‘Probably a good idea. Still, if I were you I would have made some notes at least. After all, they’ll all be listening.’
She meant the boy. I knew that. But Cal meant nothing to me. Richard was the man I loved. Unless, of course, Cal turned out to be practice-worthy like Hentley but without Hentley’s added issues that made it mean to even think of practising on him. Though Cal already had Spooky, who was probably an issue all by herself.
When I tried to tell Polly all this she stuck her fingers in her ears. ‘Enough with Richard,’ she said, shutting her eyes so tightly that they turned into little crease marks on her face. ‘Enough already. He’s never going to look at you. Not until you’re seventeen at least. It’s doomed, Mags, really doomed. He’s practically a man – though Jane reckons men are boys until forty – which makes Marcus barely adolescent. But if you take away the Jane factor, Richard is almost a man. Not only that, but he’s practically a cousin. That’s illegal.’
‘Only first cousins. Richard’s not even a real anything cousin because he’s Trib’s nephew. So there, Polly Davies.’
‘It would still be wrong. Unless you met in some romantic city, like Paris, say, when you were a young woman in the first flush of ... whatever it is ... and he didn’t even recognise you but invited you out anyway even though you were with some dude...’
‘As if, Polly.’
‘Well, that’s what I mean, Magenta. You’ve got to give him up. Set your sights on someone less out of your reach.’
‘Like Hentley?’ I hadn’t meant to say that. It slipped out because I’d been thinking of him just before. To my surprise Polly went red. Not pink, but red. As though she’d been running, which Polly never does.
‘Not Hentley precisely,’ she said, ‘but, yeah, that kind of thing.’
‘We don’t even know what Cal looks like,’ I protested, ‘he could be like the Missing Link for all we know. At least Richard’s gorgeous.’
‘Cal might be even hotter,’ Polly pointed out.
‘I suppose,’ I said, but I knew he couldn’t be better looking than Richard.
He wasn’t. We walked into the Chocolate Bean at precisely 3.25pm and Spooky (sorry, Lianna) and Cal were already sitting at a table. She was sitting facing the door, not even pretending to read the open newspaper in front of her. He was sitting to her left, bent over a handheld PlayStation. She looked almost exactly like her photo, just a couple of years older and the blonde streaks in her hair were growing out so you could see the dark roots. I wondered if she’d recently waxed the hairs above her top lip, too, because it looked slightly pink, the way Mum’s goes when she’s just waxed. Not that Mum ever does that when it matters. She always waits until Trib’s away and there’s no school on. Maybe Spooky didn’t know that kind of stuff but was making an effort for her first date. Though it wasn’t really a date.
By the time I’d thought all that, she’d done a little kind of sitting-down jump and started to wave at us, before clasping her hands together, still smiling eagerly in our direction.
‘Max!’ she called, as though we hadn’t all seen each other.
‘Hi, Lianna.’ Dad strode to the table and held out his hand to shake hers. She gave him her hand almost as though she expected him to kiss it. Then they introduced Cal and me to each other and Dad and I sat down and I buried my face in the menu. I only looked up when Dad said, ‘So we have something to confess, don’t we, Magenta?’ and gave me a bit of shove with his elbow.
I lowered the menu. ‘It was me,’ I said. ‘The whole idea was mine. I even wrote the emails. But only because I wanted Dad to meet someone. You sounded really nice and I thought you both might get along. I didn’t want to mislead you. I just wanted Dad to be happy.’
Spooky looked confused so I started again and even Cal put down his PSP to listen. By the third time it was all clear and Spooky had grabbed my hand and told me what a wonderful daughter I was, Cal was nodding and even Dad was harrumphing in a way that meant he wasn’t going to admit it but he was proud of me.
‘You wrote all those emails yourself?’ Spooky said. ‘I’m amazed. Cal, you’d better pay more attention in English – they were really mature.’
‘That’s not English, Mum,’ Cal said. ‘In English all we get to do is answer these dumb questions. We don’t get to pretend to be someone else. That’s more like drama.’
‘Well, she certainly has a flair for whatever it is. You must be so proud, Max!’
‘Just embarrassed, really,’ Dad said. ‘Though your graciousness is heart-warming, Lianna.’
‘It’s just so wonderful witnessing a strong father-and-daughter bond,’ Lianna said, patting my father’s hand, ‘You’ve no idea how many dysfunctional single-parent families there are out there. But here you two are, really trying to help each other.’
Her eyes looked suspiciously moist, but before she had a chance to cry our coffees and hot chocolates arrived with the famous chocolate muffins.
‘It doesn’t mean that we can’t all be friends,’ Spooky said, stirring sugar in her coffee and making little patterns in the cappuccino foam. ‘I do understand, Max, that this puts you in an awkward position, but friendship?’ Her voice tilted up at the end of this sentence hopefully and seemed to hang in the air for a second too long.
‘Of course,’ my father said heartily. ‘We all need friends! Particularly single parents. The number of times I’ve wished I could call someone to help with some problem I’ve had with Magenta!’
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