the past was unchangeable and the future not a matter of relevance. At five-thirty, Mam had begun to stir, with tea kettle shrilly whistling and television chattering away. Vi should have surrendered to the inevitable and started her day then. The additional doze she’d instead allowed herself had set her behind.
After a quick bit of snooping, she found Roger and Da in the kitchen, Da all suited up for his day with no work and Roger beneath the table, gnawing on a joint bone of some poor beast or another.
“Morning,” she said to her father.
He returned the greeting, then had a sip of orange juice. She noted that he was reading a brochure about employment opportunities in sales. He must be desperate, for her da was among the quietest men she knew. Both he and his namesake son, Michael, would happily go hours without talking if others didn’t shake words loose.
At floor-level, Roger drew her attention, growling and worrying at his bone as though it might escape.
“Give it back,” she said to her hound, not quite sure she wanted to touch it if he were willing. Rog backed until he was safely between her da’s feet.
“What, no meat for him, either?” Da asked. “Are you making over your dog in your own image?”
With Rog’s carnivore’s fondness for mice and hares, she stood no chance.
“Just avoiding another scolding from Mam. If she sees him acting a savage in her kitchen, he’ll be sleeping on the stoop.”
Da smiled. “I’ve already taken the scolding in Roger’s name. Your mother had planned the bone for her ham and bean soup, dreadful stuff that it is.”
“Which is exactly why you gave the bone to Rog, no doubt.”
“A wise man learns to avert disaster.” He set aside his glass of juice. “Speaking of which, are you off to Duncarraig again this morning?”
Unlike his mother or Vi herself, Da had never possessed a bit of the second sight, which left her wondering what disaster he might be referring to, if not Una Rafferty’s chicken feast.
“I am, and far later than I planned to be,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
He had the look of a man about to suffer. “Your mother’s at the bakery. The flower committee from church will be here this afternoon for a meeting. They’re fine women, all, for about twenty minutes. After that, my head begins to ring with their talking, and there’s no place away from them.”
Vi could imagine.
“You’re welcome to come along,” she said as she inventoried the cleaning supplies beneath the sink. Since Mam had enough to last to Armageddon, she’d not miss some liquid soap and a sponge or two. Vi emerged with her pilfered goods. “I have to say, Da, handsome as you are, you’re also overdressed to help me.”
He glanced briefly at the sales brochure still on the table. “I was thinking more of a visit in town today…a look-see for new opportunities. Hard to believe I grew up there, what little I’ve been back.”
Often enough to settle a friend’s jetsam on her, that much was certain. She found an empty grocery sack in a drawer by the back door and tucked her supplies inside. That done, Vi opened the fridge. It seemed that Mam’s priorities lay with cleanliness. Nothing had appeared in the refrigerator since last night except some rashers, and she’d leave the pig-nibbling to Roger.
Like Da, she settled for a glass of juice—the bottled, watery type that he preferred. The first swallow brought a wince. The second was enough to force surrender. Vi dumped the rest of the juice into the sink.
“Twenty minutes and we’ll be gone,” she said.
“Time enough,” her father replied.
Twenty minutes beyond that, as they headed toward Duncarraig, Da made his plans better known. “I doubt I’ll be as long as you will,” he said. “How about we drop you at your nan’s and I take your car back into town?”
Vi glanced over at him and was pleased to see that he appeared nearly content. He wasn’t a man to wear his unhappiness on the
After a quick bit of snooping, she found Roger and Da in the kitchen, Da all suited up for his day with no work and Roger beneath the table, gnawing on a joint bone of some poor beast or another.
“Morning,” she said to her father.
He returned the greeting, then had a sip of orange juice. She noted that he was reading a brochure about employment opportunities in sales. He must be desperate, for her da was among the quietest men she knew. Both he and his namesake son, Michael, would happily go hours without talking if others didn’t shake words loose.
At floor-level, Roger drew her attention, growling and worrying at his bone as though it might escape.
“Give it back,” she said to her hound, not quite sure she wanted to touch it if he were willing. Rog backed until he was safely between her da’s feet.
“What, no meat for him, either?” Da asked. “Are you making over your dog in your own image?”
With Rog’s carnivore’s fondness for mice and hares, she stood no chance.
“Just avoiding another scolding from Mam. If she sees him acting a savage in her kitchen, he’ll be sleeping on the stoop.”
Da smiled. “I’ve already taken the scolding in Roger’s name. Your mother had planned the bone for her ham and bean soup, dreadful stuff that it is.”
“Which is exactly why you gave the bone to Rog, no doubt.”
“A wise man learns to avert disaster.” He set aside his glass of juice. “Speaking of which, are you off to Duncarraig again this morning?”
Unlike his mother or Vi herself, Da had never possessed a bit of the second sight, which left her wondering what disaster he might be referring to, if not Una Rafferty’s chicken feast.
“I am, and far later than I planned to be,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
He had the look of a man about to suffer. “Your mother’s at the bakery. The flower committee from church will be here this afternoon for a meeting. They’re fine women, all, for about twenty minutes. After that, my head begins to ring with their talking, and there’s no place away from them.”
Vi could imagine.
“You’re welcome to come along,” she said as she inventoried the cleaning supplies beneath the sink. Since Mam had enough to last to Armageddon, she’d not miss some liquid soap and a sponge or two. Vi emerged with her pilfered goods. “I have to say, Da, handsome as you are, you’re also overdressed to help me.”
He glanced briefly at the sales brochure still on the table. “I was thinking more of a visit in town today…a look-see for new opportunities. Hard to believe I grew up there, what little I’ve been back.”
Often enough to settle a friend’s jetsam on her, that much was certain. She found an empty grocery sack in a drawer by the back door and tucked her supplies inside. That done, Vi opened the fridge. It seemed that Mam’s priorities lay with cleanliness. Nothing had appeared in the refrigerator since last night except some rashers, and she’d leave the pig-nibbling to Roger.
Like Da, she settled for a glass of juice—the bottled, watery type that he preferred. The first swallow brought a wince. The second was enough to force surrender. Vi dumped the rest of the juice into the sink.
“Twenty minutes and we’ll be gone,” she said.
“Time enough,” her father replied.
Twenty minutes beyond that, as they headed toward Duncarraig, Da made his plans better known. “I doubt I’ll be as long as you will,” he said. “How about we drop you at your nan’s and I take your car back into town?”
Vi glanced over at him and was pleased to see that he appeared nearly content. He wasn’t a man to wear his unhappiness on the
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