organise this?”
“It was
my
idea,” I said, before Dad could speak. “Barry paid me yesterday and …” I reached for the first package. “Well, anyway, Merry Christmas, Nan.”
She slipped her finger between the paper and tape. “Oh, lavender talc.” She looked up, her eyes shining. “Lavender is my favourite. Thank you.”
My face flushed.
She reached out her hand. I weaved aside to avoid a hug, but kissed her on the cheek. I now recognised her flowery scent as lavender.
“This one’s for you, Dad.” I handed him the last package, which felt heavier than it had on the way home yesterday.
“Thank you, Robert,” he said, voice thick.
I stepped back to the mantelpiece and watched. Mrs Quinn had suggested ties, handkerchiefs, even a leather folder for his cheque book, but the moment I saw the picture frame, I knew what I wanted.
“Show me, Frank,” said Nan.
Dad’s movements were slow as he lifted the silver-plated frame free of the paper.
“How lovely. That picture taken before New Guinea would fit perfectly. You look very handsome in that photo.”
I cleared my throat, which all of a sudden felt tight. “Actually, Dad, I was thinking …” I folded my arms. “A photo of you and Mum on your wedding day – or maybe of the three of us – would look good in it.”
Above me, Bluey shifted position, the sound of his flapping wings loud in the quiet. He chirruped and fluttered to the mantelpiece, perching between a vase Nan never used for flowers and the china figurine of a woman whose skirt swirled like she was caught in a gust of wind. If I had a penny for every time Nan told me the figurine had been a wedding present from Grandpa, and “an expensive one, at that”, I’d have been able to fill the house with the ugly things.
Dad placed the photo frame on his lap.
Nan’s hands gripped the talc so hard I expected a puff of white to burst into the air.
“Thank you, Robert,” said Dad, after what felt like hours but could only have been seconds. “Make sure you save your next pay packet.”
My stomach sank. He hated my gift.
The flatness in his voice, or maybe Nan’s continued silence, filled me with courage. “Dad, about Mum. She must have had family – parents, maybe brothers and sisters. Why don’t we ever hear–”
Dad’s face crumbled with sorrow.
Nan leaped to her feet. “Robert, take your gifts to your room,” she barked. As she lurched forwards to hurry me, Bluey screeched and flapped in alarm. His wings fluttered against the china figurine. It wobbled as though caught in a real windstorm. Bluey flew to the curtain rail, twittering and squawking. The wobbling figurine toppled to the floor.
Nan cried out. She dropped to her knees and cradled the figurine, now in three pieces.
She turned, her face ugly and twisted with anger. “Get out of my sight.”
I bolted from the room, leaving my gifts behind.
CHAPTER 16
I’d been sitting on the shed floor for only a few moments and sweat already soaked my shirt. I wrestled with two options. Go inside and apologise? Or wait here until things settled down?
What did I have to be sorry for? It wasn’t me who broke the stupid figurine, or let that ridiculous bird out of its cage.
Apologising was not happening!
But sitting it out could take days. Another five minutes in here and I’d be cooked.
The jars of screws, nails and coiled bits of wire lined up on the wooden shelf opposite came into sharp focus. Between the nails and screws lay two packages I’d placed there yesterday.
I hauled myself up, took the packages from the shelf, and burst out of the shed into the searing sunshine.
By the time I reached the caravan park, my courage had faded.
What was I thinking?
If Nan was right and dropping in unannounced wasn’t the done thing, how much worse would it be on Christmas Day? It was a dumb idea, and yet, I kept riding.
At the office, I stepped off my bike and checked the parcels under my arm.
“Robbie! Merry
“It was
my
idea,” I said, before Dad could speak. “Barry paid me yesterday and …” I reached for the first package. “Well, anyway, Merry Christmas, Nan.”
She slipped her finger between the paper and tape. “Oh, lavender talc.” She looked up, her eyes shining. “Lavender is my favourite. Thank you.”
My face flushed.
She reached out her hand. I weaved aside to avoid a hug, but kissed her on the cheek. I now recognised her flowery scent as lavender.
“This one’s for you, Dad.” I handed him the last package, which felt heavier than it had on the way home yesterday.
“Thank you, Robert,” he said, voice thick.
I stepped back to the mantelpiece and watched. Mrs Quinn had suggested ties, handkerchiefs, even a leather folder for his cheque book, but the moment I saw the picture frame, I knew what I wanted.
“Show me, Frank,” said Nan.
Dad’s movements were slow as he lifted the silver-plated frame free of the paper.
“How lovely. That picture taken before New Guinea would fit perfectly. You look very handsome in that photo.”
I cleared my throat, which all of a sudden felt tight. “Actually, Dad, I was thinking …” I folded my arms. “A photo of you and Mum on your wedding day – or maybe of the three of us – would look good in it.”
Above me, Bluey shifted position, the sound of his flapping wings loud in the quiet. He chirruped and fluttered to the mantelpiece, perching between a vase Nan never used for flowers and the china figurine of a woman whose skirt swirled like she was caught in a gust of wind. If I had a penny for every time Nan told me the figurine had been a wedding present from Grandpa, and “an expensive one, at that”, I’d have been able to fill the house with the ugly things.
Dad placed the photo frame on his lap.
Nan’s hands gripped the talc so hard I expected a puff of white to burst into the air.
“Thank you, Robert,” said Dad, after what felt like hours but could only have been seconds. “Make sure you save your next pay packet.”
My stomach sank. He hated my gift.
The flatness in his voice, or maybe Nan’s continued silence, filled me with courage. “Dad, about Mum. She must have had family – parents, maybe brothers and sisters. Why don’t we ever hear–”
Dad’s face crumbled with sorrow.
Nan leaped to her feet. “Robert, take your gifts to your room,” she barked. As she lurched forwards to hurry me, Bluey screeched and flapped in alarm. His wings fluttered against the china figurine. It wobbled as though caught in a real windstorm. Bluey flew to the curtain rail, twittering and squawking. The wobbling figurine toppled to the floor.
Nan cried out. She dropped to her knees and cradled the figurine, now in three pieces.
She turned, her face ugly and twisted with anger. “Get out of my sight.”
I bolted from the room, leaving my gifts behind.
CHAPTER 16
I’d been sitting on the shed floor for only a few moments and sweat already soaked my shirt. I wrestled with two options. Go inside and apologise? Or wait here until things settled down?
What did I have to be sorry for? It wasn’t me who broke the stupid figurine, or let that ridiculous bird out of its cage.
Apologising was not happening!
But sitting it out could take days. Another five minutes in here and I’d be cooked.
The jars of screws, nails and coiled bits of wire lined up on the wooden shelf opposite came into sharp focus. Between the nails and screws lay two packages I’d placed there yesterday.
I hauled myself up, took the packages from the shelf, and burst out of the shed into the searing sunshine.
By the time I reached the caravan park, my courage had faded.
What was I thinking?
If Nan was right and dropping in unannounced wasn’t the done thing, how much worse would it be on Christmas Day? It was a dumb idea, and yet, I kept riding.
At the office, I stepped off my bike and checked the parcels under my arm.
“Robbie! Merry
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