“This is a little something from us, Robbie.”
My face felt warm.
She shook it, urging me to take it from her.
“Thank you.” The parcel felt like wrapped underpants. I placed it beside me and held out the packages I’d brought. “Sorry about the wrapping. Mrs Quinn was out of Christmas paper. I hope they’re okay. I can–”
“Mate, you shouldn’t have,” said Barry, stopping my blathering. “Open yours first.”
I untied the ribbon, peeled away the sticky tape and readied myself for more undies. But instead of white undies, I saw red and blue stripes. A T-shirt, exactly the same as the one I’d seen in Dobson’s window this week. My mouth opened and shut, but no sound came out.
“I hope it’s the right size,” said Mrs Gregory, leaning forwards.
My eyes prickled. “It’s …”
“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t like it,” said Barry.
I shook my head. “I love it.” My voice squeaked and cracked just like it did when I was twelve. “It’s too much.”
“Nonsense,” said Barry.
“And the colours,” said Mrs Gregory, “are they okay?”
I held the shirt in front of my chest. “Perfect, thank you.”
I placed it back on the paper and picked up the parcels I’d brought with me. “This is for you, Barry,” I said, passing the flat one across the table. I walked around the table and kissed Mrs Gregory on the cheek and handed her the other. “Merry Christmas.”
Her eyes glittered.
“How did you know I love them?” said Barry, holding up the Rolling Stones’ single I’d bought.
“You talked about seeing them in London, so I figured you’d like their new single. Do you have it?”
As Barry went to speak, Mrs Gregory gasped, hand over her mouth.
My heart plummeted. I’d mucked up. In a big way.
“Oh, Robbie,” she breathed. “This is perfect.”
My thudding heart slowed. “Really?”
She held up the lily-of-the-valley talc and soap.
Barry smiled, but his eyes looked sad. “It’s the perfect gift for Mum, Robbie. Dad used to buy it for her every year.”
Mrs Gregory nodded, her chin wobbling. “And I said to Barry this morning, I’d miss it this year, but …” She pushed back from the table. I braced for another one of her hugs, but no bracing could prepare me for the strength of this one.
CHAPTER 17
After I left the caravan park, I rode around town, new T-shirt under my arm, keen to keep the bubble of warmth that had surrounded me at the Gregorys’ for as long as I could.
I passed dads pushing kids on new bikes and little girls skipping and squealing around a sprinkler in their front yard. A group of boys hit a tennis ball with shiny new racquets.
As I rode past Deakin Street, I glanced down the road. Keith ran alongside his little sister on a trike. The red, blue and white streamers on the handlebars fluttered.
I pressed my elbow against my T-shirt and headed for home.
When I walked through the back door, the house was still and silent. Faint smells of Ajax and burnt gravy hung in the heavy air.
I glanced down the hallway. Nan’s door was shut.
I continued past Bluey, now locked in his cage, to the lounge room. Dad sat in his chair. He had a book open on his lap and stared at the blank television screen.
The figurine debris had been swept up. The wrapping paper and the gifts were gone. I cleared my throat.
“Where have you been?” asked Dad, his eyes slow to focus.
“I took gifts to Barry and Mrs Gregory.”
Dad nodded.
“Where’s–” I swallowed. “Nan?”
Dad sighed. “Headache.”
“Right.” She wouldn’t appear again until tomorrow morning. I raked my teeth across my bottom lip. “Dad. The frame. I didn’t …”
The truth was I had no idea why I’d said he should put a photo of Mum in it. Up until I started working for Barry, I’d not thought about the fact there were no photos of Mum around here. But something inside had cracked and feelings and questions I couldn’t put words to were seeping out.
Dad shook a
My face felt warm.
She shook it, urging me to take it from her.
“Thank you.” The parcel felt like wrapped underpants. I placed it beside me and held out the packages I’d brought. “Sorry about the wrapping. Mrs Quinn was out of Christmas paper. I hope they’re okay. I can–”
“Mate, you shouldn’t have,” said Barry, stopping my blathering. “Open yours first.”
I untied the ribbon, peeled away the sticky tape and readied myself for more undies. But instead of white undies, I saw red and blue stripes. A T-shirt, exactly the same as the one I’d seen in Dobson’s window this week. My mouth opened and shut, but no sound came out.
“I hope it’s the right size,” said Mrs Gregory, leaning forwards.
My eyes prickled. “It’s …”
“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t like it,” said Barry.
I shook my head. “I love it.” My voice squeaked and cracked just like it did when I was twelve. “It’s too much.”
“Nonsense,” said Barry.
“And the colours,” said Mrs Gregory, “are they okay?”
I held the shirt in front of my chest. “Perfect, thank you.”
I placed it back on the paper and picked up the parcels I’d brought with me. “This is for you, Barry,” I said, passing the flat one across the table. I walked around the table and kissed Mrs Gregory on the cheek and handed her the other. “Merry Christmas.”
Her eyes glittered.
“How did you know I love them?” said Barry, holding up the Rolling Stones’ single I’d bought.
“You talked about seeing them in London, so I figured you’d like their new single. Do you have it?”
As Barry went to speak, Mrs Gregory gasped, hand over her mouth.
My heart plummeted. I’d mucked up. In a big way.
“Oh, Robbie,” she breathed. “This is perfect.”
My thudding heart slowed. “Really?”
She held up the lily-of-the-valley talc and soap.
Barry smiled, but his eyes looked sad. “It’s the perfect gift for Mum, Robbie. Dad used to buy it for her every year.”
Mrs Gregory nodded, her chin wobbling. “And I said to Barry this morning, I’d miss it this year, but …” She pushed back from the table. I braced for another one of her hugs, but no bracing could prepare me for the strength of this one.
CHAPTER 17
After I left the caravan park, I rode around town, new T-shirt under my arm, keen to keep the bubble of warmth that had surrounded me at the Gregorys’ for as long as I could.
I passed dads pushing kids on new bikes and little girls skipping and squealing around a sprinkler in their front yard. A group of boys hit a tennis ball with shiny new racquets.
As I rode past Deakin Street, I glanced down the road. Keith ran alongside his little sister on a trike. The red, blue and white streamers on the handlebars fluttered.
I pressed my elbow against my T-shirt and headed for home.
When I walked through the back door, the house was still and silent. Faint smells of Ajax and burnt gravy hung in the heavy air.
I glanced down the hallway. Nan’s door was shut.
I continued past Bluey, now locked in his cage, to the lounge room. Dad sat in his chair. He had a book open on his lap and stared at the blank television screen.
The figurine debris had been swept up. The wrapping paper and the gifts were gone. I cleared my throat.
“Where have you been?” asked Dad, his eyes slow to focus.
“I took gifts to Barry and Mrs Gregory.”
Dad nodded.
“Where’s–” I swallowed. “Nan?”
Dad sighed. “Headache.”
“Right.” She wouldn’t appear again until tomorrow morning. I raked my teeth across my bottom lip. “Dad. The frame. I didn’t …”
The truth was I had no idea why I’d said he should put a photo of Mum in it. Up until I started working for Barry, I’d not thought about the fact there were no photos of Mum around here. But something inside had cracked and feelings and questions I couldn’t put words to were seeping out.
Dad shook a
Similar Books
