Lessons From Ducks (5 page)

Chapter six

“This is me,” Anna said, placing her hand on top of her gate, and turning to face Matt and Oscar.

“Wow,” Oscar breathed, his eyes wide as he took in the jungle that was her cultivated garden, and the red house in front of him. “You live in a barn?”

“I do,” Anna affirmed. His reaction pleased her; it was similar to the one she’d had when the estate agent had first shown her the property.

“That’s so cool!”

“Thank you.”

“Dad, why don’t you live in a barn?”

“According to your mother the inside of my place often
looks
like one.”

Anna smiled while Oscar groaned. “No, she says it looks like a pigsty, not a barn.”

“My mistake.”

Matt couldn’t help but notice that Anna kept herself between them and the gate, as if to ward off any possible entry attempts.

“Have you lived here long?” he enquired.

Again a shadow flitted across her face as if a cloud had just blown in front of the sun.

“A few years,” she answered.

If he were waiting for any further information none was forthcoming.

“Well,” he said finally when it was clear he would need to do the talking, “it looks like an amazing place to live. You do the gardens yourself?”

She nodded.

“That’s incredible. Personally I’ve never been able to keep a pot plant alive longer than a week; I could never create something as amazing as this.” He was not quite as bad as that, but he was desperate to keep the conversation going.

Anna turned to admire her own gardens, pretending she was seeing them as Matt and Oscar were, for the very first time. He was right; they
were
incredible, and she felt proud at all that her hard work had achieved. A mass of creepers; roses, wisteria, jasmine and clematis had been teased and nudged gently until they had grown along the fence, over the archway above her gate and along the decking and pillars that made up her front porch. The garden in front of the porch was boxed in by a small hedge – due for a trim soon she noticed – and inside the hedge salmon pink impatiens, crisp white chrysanthemums and a dazzling colourful mix of dahlias jostled for space. Along the inside of the front fence grew sprays of delicate gypsophila and deep golden marigolds. In large terracotta pots framing the front door grew bushy purple petunias plants. The whole effect could have been a horrible confusion of colours, but balanced by the soothing greens and the deep maroon of her house it all came together beautifully.

In the deepening light that was twilight, the whole garden was bathed in an iridescent glimmer that made her feel as if - in this window of time between day and night when children slumbered and lovers stirred - magic was somewhere afoot.

The lawn could do with a mow she realised, although she preferred to keep it longer than some of her neighbours considered fashionable. The pink and white clovers that sprung up overnight when she allowed the grass its freedom attracted bees, and without bees to pollinate her garden it wouldn’t be anywhere near as magnificent as it was.

Entranced, she had forgotten the presence of the others until Matt said softly behind her, “it’s stunning,” and she knew from his tone that he could feel the magic in the air too.

“Right,” she spoke briskly and turned back to them, “thank you once again for seeing me safely home. As you can see I’m absolutely fine now so please don’t let me hold you up any longer.”

“We’ll see you to the door,” Matt made to step forward but she blocked him.

“There’s no need.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her as if she was being purposefully difficult but she refused to back down.

“I think I’m capable of making it the last five metres without you,” she told him defiantly.

“But –”

A loud noise interrupted them.

“Oscar, was that your stomach?” Anna looked at the boy in astonishment.

He placed his hands over his tummy. “Yes,” he assumed a hangdog expression. “I’m starving. I told dad earlier –” he paused to scowl at his father, “but he still made us follow you to make sure you were ok.”

“Oh.” That rather complicated things for Anna. She couldn’t have Oscar’s hunger on her conscience. If she sent him away it would haunt her all night. Matt assumed an expression similar to his sons, something akin to what she imagined the phrase ‘puppy dog look’ referred to. She sighed.

“Fine,” she told them begrudgingly. “You can both come in while I fix Oscar something.
For the road,
” she added just to be clear.

Normally Matt didn’t make a habit of guilt tripping other people into feeding his child, but he decided tonight he would make an exception.

“Splendid,” he beamed, sidestepping Anna neatly, lifting the latch of the gate and striding off up the path. “Come along son,” he called over his shoulder. Anna stared after him with an open mouth for a moment then quickly shut the gate and followed them.

“Wait,” she called, “watch out for the –” but she didn’t get to finish before the ducks rounded the corner, quickly and furiously. If they were at all fazed by the strangers in their garden they didn’t show it, tripping each other up as usual around Anna’s feet.

‘QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK’

With an apologetic look at Matt and Oscar, Anna turned to soothe the ducks.

“Yes I know it’s late and I’m very sorry. It’s not my fault though, there were some, er,
unusual circumstances
which were completely beyond my control.”

‘QUACK QUACK’

“I’d rather not get into it right now. Besides, as you can see we have visitors, and I don’t think it’s polite to argue in front of them, do you?”

‘QUACK’

“Thank you.”

She turned back to Matt and Oscar, whose turn it was to stand there open mouthed. Matt recovered first, shaking his head a little and giving her the sort of smile someone might give a person when they weren’t sure whether all their marbles were present and accounted for.

“So,” he said, drawing out the o slowly, “you keep ducks.”

Beside him, Oscar finally managed to shut his mouth. He tugged at his father’s jersey.

“
Dad
?” he said.

“Well I wouldn’t say I
keep
them,” Anna frowned. “That’s an odd choice of word.”

“Odd?”

“
Dad!”

“
Yes, odd.”

“You’re saying
keep
is an odd choice of word?”

“In that context, yes.”

“Well in that case I apologise. I’ve never met anyone who owned ducks before. I wasn’t aware there was a wrong and right term of reference.”

“
Dad, was she –”

“I mean, you wouldn’t say to someone, ‘I see you
keep
cats, or a dog,’ would you? Seriously, have you ever heard anyone say ‘I see you
keep
a parrot’?”

“Well no. Not like
that -
,” he admitted.

“
Dad! Was she just talking to the ducks?”

“Exactly,” Anna said, “they’re normal pets, just like anything else. A more correct term would have been to point out that I ‘have’ ducks.”

“I’m sorry, but are we really standing here arguing over the unintentional misuse of a word?”

“
Like they were people?”

“I just thought I should inform you of the correct term in case you ever meet anyone else who ‘has’ pet ducks.”

“Now see,” said Matt, “I’ve always wondered; should that be ‘who’, or ‘whom’?”

He was mocking her, Anna knew.

“I give up,” Oscar muttered. “If no one else thinks it’s crazy then who am I to care?” He stooped down to look at the ducks closer. They tilted their heads and studied him back.

Matt and Anna reached an impasse and simply stared at each other, eyes narrowed.

Matt was the one to break it. “You know,” he told Anna, “you and Kirsten would get along nicely. She’s labouring under the mistaken impression I need to be constantly improved as well.”

“Kirsten?”

“The soul sucking black hole that devours the contents of my wallet.”

“He means my mother,” elaborated Oscar.

“ Your mother! Of course you have a mother, why wouldn’t you,” Anna exclaimed, unsure why she hadn’t before now stopped to consider the woman who completed the set-up.

Oscar looked at her like a couple of marbles had just fallen out of one ear. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes of course.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little bit weird?” Oscar asked her.

“Oscar!” Matt grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him against him. “Apologise to Anna please.”

“No it’s quite alright,” Anna said. “Children speak without filters, it’s refreshing. Right, let’s see about getting you some food Oscar,
yes and you
,” she added when the ducks puffed up their chests indignantly. “Back door in five. Won’t Kirsten be wondering where you are?” she directed this last question to Matt as she turned her key in the door and let them into her home.

“Nope. We’re divorced. It’s my week with Oscar.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. Its better this way, believe me. She’ll be off spending my money on something ridiculously luxurious.”

“You sound bitter.”

“Not at all, I’m much happier now. This way there’s no one trying to improve my speech all the time,” and he winked at her as he crossed over the threshold.

“That’s not what I was doing,” Anna protested after him, but he didn’t hear. He was too busy taking in her house. He whistled.

“Oscar, come check this out,” he called to where Oscar was still loitering outside with the ducks. Reluctantly Oscar left them to join his father inside.

“Cool,” he said, after a few minutes observation. Because, really, when it came down to it, it was just a house and he was an eight year old boy.

“Cool? It’s better than cool son.”

Oscar tried again. “Great?”

Matt sighed.

“It’s a house dad.”

“House? Son, it’s so much more than that.” He opened his arms in a sweeping gesture that encompassed the room. “Look at this place, why, it’s a work of art. And you,” he whirled swiftly back to Anna who stepped back, startled. “You clever thing you, creating this!”

“I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit,” Anna told him, puzzled by his passionate reaction.

“Oh,” Matt seemed crestfallen, “you bought it like this?”

‘Well, not exactly like this. I painted it these colours. And I knocked out a wall there,” she pointed, “to make it all one big living area downstairs. But it was built by someone else.”

Matt was quiet while he pondered what she’d said. Finally he clapped his hands, “well,” he said, “what you’ve done has enhanced it, for sure. And these colours are perfect. I like how even though it’s all one room you’ve separated each area with a different colour. What was it painted before?”

“Cream.”

“Ugh,” he shuddered. “Is there any colour less imaginative?”

“Isn’t your lounge cream dad?”

“It’s ivory, son. That’s different. And it’s only temporary until I can find the right colour to replace it.”

“Are you a designer?” Anna asked.

“Merely a frustrated closet one, I’m afraid.”

“Meaning?”

“I graduated as an accountant, worked two months on the job and realised I’d made a horrible mistake and went back to school to study design. Then I met Kirsten, and
life
-” he pointed downwards with his fingers to indicate Oscar silently, “- got in the way and I had to leave to get a job to pay the bills.”

“Did you go back to accountancy?”

“Sadly. Stuck with it for years – even though each day a little part inside of me died – but as soon as Kirsten left I quit and now I’m a groundskeeper. It’s not glamorous, and the money is absolutely rubbish, but I’m outside each day enjoying the elements.” He smiled and Anna could tell he really enjoyed his work.

They heard a scuffling noise coming from the back door off the kitchen.

“I’d better feed the ducks before they mutiny.”

“Go right ahead, I’ll just look around while we wait, if that’s ok?”

Whether it was or not Anna was polite, so she nodded, before hurrying to the kitchen and fetching the ducks bread from the pantry.

“Can I help?” Oscar asked her.

“Sure,” Anna smiled at him, “that would be nice.” She was struggling to act naturally around him. From the moment she’d set eyes on him in the park her composure had deserted her. Luckily, she had become accustomed to putting on a brave face, something she’d found was expected of her by people who’d stopped inviting her into their homes in case she melted into a basket case in their arms. She found if she maintained a pretence of normality, of ‘getting on with things’, they found it easier to be around her. It was her that stopped accepting the invitations in the end though. She just found it easier to be in her own company. That way, if she felt like crying uncontrollably for three hours and throwing things at walls, she could. She’d once smashed an entire dinner set – white with blue trim, an engagement present that had sat forgotten in its box under a bed in the spare room - on the cobbled patio out back like she’d seen the Greek’s do in movies. She was curious to see if it would make her feel better but it didn’t really. All it did was make a big mess that she’d then had to clean up.