Drip Dry (14 page)

‘Look! See my lubly hair? It's beautiful and I lub it berry, berry much. You hab to do it
exactly like this
ebry single day.'

4.30 pm

‘Put the damn video camera
away
!'

‘But this would be a dead cert for
Funniest Home Videos
! You should see your head!'

‘Put it
away
!'

‘But, Mum, you said I couldn't use the other one!'

‘Ben, I don't seem to be getting through to you, do I?' I put my book down and look at my son sternly. ‘I don't mind you showing initiative, but not if it is based on the humiliation of others! Do you understand?'

‘No.'

‘In other words then, find something that is funny but does
not
embarrass someone else. Especially me.'

‘But that'll be too hard!'

‘So be it. You're lucky I'm even talking to you.' I glare at him for good measure but in actual fact I've nearly forgiven him. He was so mortified when he
heard what had happened at CJ's party that I ended up feeling more sorry for him than I did for myself.

‘So what did you do with the film?'

‘I broke it into one hundred little pieces and threw each and every one of them away.'

‘What? I could have reused that!'

‘You really think I was going to risk that film being in existence in any way, shape or form?' I pick up my book again as a gesture of dismissal.

‘I would have wiped it!'

‘Mum, this stuff
sooo
stinks!' Samantha wanders into the lounge-room with a towel wrapped around her body and her hair sticking out every which way. Actually it rather resembles some of those artfully arranged hairstyles often adorning the heads of happening starlets, and you wonder whether they really paid good money to end up looking like that. Now I know – they all simply have nits.

‘Believe me, I sympathise. But we have to leave it in overnight so I'm afraid you're stuck with it.'

‘
Gross
. And now I can't go over to Dad's.' She turns to give CJ, who is watching an after-school children's quiz show on the television, a totally disgusted look. CJ ignores her completely.

‘I'm telling you I would have wiped it!' Ben is still staring at me accusingly. ‘Now I have to get another one!'

‘They cost money you know!'

‘Hey, are you two talking about the tape?' Sam has turned away from her sister and grins at me. ‘Ben told me all about it. I think it's the funniest thing I've ever heard. We were in hysterics!'

‘
Ben
was in hysterics?'

‘He sure was, weren't you, Ben?' Sam turns to her brother, who is doing a backward slunk out of the room. ‘Hey, where are you going?'

‘Homework.'

‘So, Mum. Seeing as everybody else got to see the tape, can I?'

‘No. I broke it. And listen, Sam, I told everybody at the party that it wasn't me on the tape so you're not to breathe a word to anybody. Not your father, not your Aunt Maggie, not anyone. Understand?'

‘Yeah, Mummy lied,' says CJ, without taking her eyes off the television screen. ‘And that's really bad.'

‘And what do I get if I keep your little secret, hmm?'

‘Let me see. I know! You get the privilege of not having your diary entries published over the Internet.'

‘You wouldn't dare!'

‘You tell anyone it was me in that film and you'll find out how quickly I'll dare.'

‘God. I was only joking,' says Sam accusingly. ‘Sometimes you're, like, really vindictive, you know.'

I go back to my book. It is a very entertaining story about a woman whose therapist is sleeping with her husband. That is, the therapist is sleeping with the
woman's
husband – if she was only sleeping with her own it wouldn't make for a particularly enthralling plot. Ironically, the reason the woman went to the therapist in the first place was because she couldn't bring herself to completely trust her husband. With good reason, apparently. Anyway, the two lovers are up to no good, in bed or
out. But tonight I am finding it rather difficult to concentrate on their machinations. In fact, I have read the same passage three times now. I keep thinking about last night – and Alex. Do I want more? Does he want more? Will it only be a case of history repeating itself or will our added maturity help? But do I actually
want
a relationship with him? That's the question that is going around and around in my mind. That, and a few others. Did we both just make a huge mistake that will tarnish any hope we had of being friends? Was it as good for him as it was for me? Does the relocation of lice during sexual intercourse constitute a sexually transmitted disease? Am I morally obligated to tell him?

‘Mum! Did you feed my rabbits at all recently?' Ben bounds into the room and looks at me wild-eyed. ‘Did you?'

‘Um, why?' I stall for time while I try to remember whether I was actually allowed to feed the rabbits or not. I mean, I know that I gave them a handful of pellets on Monday, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with the pellets, my hands were clean, and I shut the cages securely afterwards.

‘Because they're sick, that's why! Rover isn't moving, and both Nicholas and Alexandra are making a sort of coughing noise! Did you do
anything
?'

‘Absolutely not,' I reply emphatically. ‘I don't think I've even been out in the backyard for days and days.'

‘C'n I see them, Ben?' CJ promptly abandons the television. Obviously a manic quiz show can't possibly compete with sick rabbits.

‘I'm going to ring Phillip.' He turns and rushes from the room.

‘He is
not
to come over today!' I quickly call after Ben. I mean to say, look at my hair! I'm sure the rabbits can wait another day. And they
were
fine on Monday. But I just know that if I mention the fact that I gave them a handful of pellets, then I'll cop the blame for their condition. I put my book down and get up as Ben re-enters the room.

‘He wasn't home. I left a message. C'n you come and have a look?'

‘Sure.' I am heartened by his sudden trust in my medical abilities.

‘And when you look I want you to
think carefully
if you've done anything!'

‘Oh. Sure.'

We go outside, followed by an eager CJ, and Murphy immediately attempts to attach himself to one of my legs. He doesn't seem to do this to anyone except me. I suppose I should be flattered.

‘Ben! Do something about your damn dog!'

‘Murphy! Down!'

Murphy reluctantly abandons his quest and slinks along behind his master. We walk over to where the two-storey wooden rabbit hutch is positioned against the fence and I peer obediently within. In the top cage, Rover is lying stiffly on his side with his tongue hanging out. I don't think it takes much medical expertise to tell that he's as dead as a dodo.

‘Ben, he's dead!'

‘He is
not
!'

Okay, I'll leave the boy to his delusions. After all,
Phillip will tell him the same when he arrives. Tomorrow, I hope. I bend down and look into the bottom cage where the two females, Nicholas and Alexandra, are also looking extremely unwell and giving out the occasional rasping cough. But at least they are up on their haunches and still in the land of the living.

‘I have no idea what's wrong, Ben.'

‘I didn't think you
would
! But if you didn't do anything, then –' He whirls around to face his little sister who is peering with considerable interest at Rover's comatose body – ‘CJ – your party! Did anyone at your party feed my rabbits?'

‘I don't know! I didn't! I didn't touch them!' CJ looks horrified to find herself suddenly under suspicion. ‘I promise I didn't!'

‘I'm going to bring them inside for the night.'

‘Are you sure that's a good idea, Ben?'

‘Yes, I can't risk leaving them out here.'

‘But it isn't that cold.'

‘No, but I can't trust anyone, can I?' He gives us a filthy look that, in CJ's case at least, is totally undeserved. But there's no point remonstrating with him when he is so distressed. I take CJ by the hand and we start walking back inside. Of course, as soon as we leave the proximity of Ben, Murphy takes a running leap and reattaches himself to my left leg. I limp awkwardly over to the back door and forcibly remove the panting dog before entering the house.

‘What's wrong with Ben?' Sam is making herself a cup of tea in the kitchen as we come in through the laundry.

‘His rabbits are sick.'

‘Really? What did you do?'

‘Nothing! Why does everyone think it has to be me whenever some animal gets sick around here?' I say with righteous indignation.

‘Probably because of your track record.' Sam grins at me and plonks her dead teabag in the kitchen sink. ‘Anyway, Dad rang. I said we couldn't come over because we all had nits and he said he'd come over –'

‘
What
!'

‘– but I said no, we all look disgusting so he said okay, and he wants you to ring back as soon as you can. Hey, did you want to look at my army pamphlets?'

‘Not really,' I answer diffidently as I reflect on what a shame it is that I am just about to start tea, and do school lunches, and iron uniforms, and change the sheets on everybody's beds, and read CJ a story, and do the dishes, and – well, unfortunately the list goes on and on. In fact, according to my calculations, ‘as soon as I can' will probably place the return phone call well into next week. Or thereabouts, at least.

8.30 pm

‘Hello, Camilla, I
do
like what you've done with your hair.' Phillip gives my lotion-stiffened hair an
admiring glance as he follows Ben outside via the laundry. I don't know why everyone refuses to use the sliding doors off the dining room – they all insist on traipsing through the kitchen and around the long way for some unknown reason. I am standing at the kitchen sink, finishing off the tea dishes so I lean forwards and peer out through the window towards the rabbit hutches. From this cunning vantage point I have a good view of Phillip – and he has absolutely no view of me.

Phillip is my sister Elizabeth's boyfriend. They have been going out for about twelve months now, and
that
must constitute some sort of record as her relationships are not generally known for their longevity. He is a really nice guy, and a vet – and Benjamin's favourite person on the face of the earth. He is also
very
cute. In fact, he is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Standing a couple of inches over six foot, he has nice broadish shoulders and a neat, narrow waist. His dark hair has a natural wave with absolutely no grey, his moustache is extremely debonair, and his eyes are a sort of liquid brown that I personally find
very
attractive. Ironically, so does Bloody Elizabeth.

As I watch Phillip fish Rover out of the top hutch and squat down to examine him, I suddenly realise what the odd feeling is that I have had ever since he walked in a few minutes ago. Unbelievably, I feel a bit guilty. Even though he is my sister's boyfriend, and not mine, I feel almost like I have played up behind his back. Which is ridiculous. I know that there is a certain chemistry between us,
and has been since we first met, but I thought I had it firmly through my head that we are not, and never will be, an item. Even if he and Bloody Elizabeth broke up tomorrow, he would still be out of bounds. There
has
to be some sort of honour code between sisters, even if one of them doesn't really deserve it.

Phillip passes a limp Rover over to Ben and takes a handful of straw out of the cage to examine it. I put my head on one side, narrow my eyes and try to compare him with Alex in a visual sense. Phillip is slightly older but certainly doesn't look it,
and
he is taller,
and
he would also be classified the more handsome in the strict definition of the word. Especially in a photograph – Phillip would
always
look traditionally handsome whereas Alex needs some movement, some expressiveness, to bring him alive, then he becomes
interesting
, and that is something I have always found seriously appealing. In a non-visual sense, I think Alex wins. He's a bit more interesting, more
fun
, and has a really lively sense of humour. And that is one thing that Phillip isn't exactly over-endowed with (there may well be others, but I am not in a position to judge). However, his air of competence is
extremely
attractive. That, and the fact that he belongs to someone else – and that someone just happens to be the sister I am least fond of.

Terry has a theory that I am chiefly attracted to Phillip because he is going out with Bloody Elizabeth (Phillip and Elizabeth – it even
sounds
ridiculous), and I think she may well have a point. But, whatever the reason for it, the attraction
is
mutual and the low-level flirting (and Elizabeth's expressive face) has certainly
made family functions much more interesting of late. But I shouldn't feel
guilty
, for god's sake!

Phillip dumps the straw back into the cage and shuts the door firmly. Then they turn away from the hutches and start to head back inside. Phillip pauses to give Murphy a scratch behind the ears and the stupid dog just about wets himself in unbridled joy. He also leaves Phillip's legs well alone. I suppose there's no accounting for some tastes.

‘I've got Nicholas and Alexandra in my bedroom,' Ben is saying as he comes in still nursing a totally immobile Rover in his arms.

‘Ben, put that rabbit down! It's dead!' I exclaim in disgust.

‘No, he's not.' Phillip turns to look at me with a puzzled frown.

‘Oh.'

‘Told you so,' Ben says with a smirk and hurries to catch up with Phillip, who is striding purposefully off towards Ben's bedroom.

‘Hey,' I hiss as I reach out and grab him by the arm, ‘I thought I told you I didn't want Phillip here tonight?'

‘You said you didn't want him here
today
, not tonight.' Ben shakes off my hand and, tenderly nursing the rabbit (which
still
looks dead to me), hurries after his mentor.

I think Alex will have to consider training as a vet if he wants to win his son over. Ben hasn't mentioned his father once since he's been home, or even expressed any desire to pop over and see him. Alex is going to have to realise that
this
relationship will
need some work and, for a while at least, the input is going to be all on his side. Obviously this boy isn't quite the pushover his mother is. Is anyone?

I finish the dishes and pull the plug in the sink. A flock of cockatoos wing their way down from the mountain and into our largest tree where they begin to shriek at each other gregariously. A few of the more valiant ones glide from the tree limbs to the ground, where they peck at all the bits of party food which the fairies thoughtfully spread over the backyard yesterday. The other birds gather up their courage as soon as they see what spoils are on offer. Soon the backyard is absolutely covered with a blanket of snowy white cockatoos. Unbelievably, that stupid dog is lying down next to the remains of one of my tree ferns and complacently watching them while he chews on one of the fronds. Even if he doesn't feel like chasing them off, then the least he could do is get rid of his sexual frustrations on a bird or two.

‘Mum, can we leave the light on in the bathroom overnight?'

‘Why would we do that?' I turn to face Samantha, who is still clad only in a rather skimpy towel. She ate tea dressed like that, did her homework dressed like that and, for all I know, plans to sleep dressed like that.

‘Because, Mommie Dearest, if I, like, need to go to the toilet in the middle of the night, then I never turn on the light and I go into the bathroom to wash my hands and then, well, I'll probably end up under the house.'

This is true. And most likely her screams will wake me up. And then I'll have to fish her out, and take her to the Angliss Hospital and, although I do need to go there tomorrow anyway to visit Diane, I'd rather wait until after I've showered this disgusting gunk out of my hair.

‘Okay, we'll leave the light on. And, Sam?' I cast a meaningful look at the towel encasing her slim, teenage body. ‘You might want to put something on. Phillip is looking at rabbits in your brother's room.'

‘What!' She looks around wildly and then, moving a lot quicker than I could in a towel, she sprints off towards her bedroom. Well, that got rid of her.

I wander down to CJ's room to check that she has gone to sleep as requested thirty minutes ago. She is snoring gently and has one arm wrapped around her latest stuffed bear. Her room looks no different from how it did this morning except that the pile of birthday acquisitions in the corner has been rummaged through and several Barbies have been totally stripped. I kiss her gently on the cheek and tuck her doona up over her chest. It is quite cool tonight, and
that
makes for a very pleasant change.

Benjamin's bedroom door is open so I walk in and stand just inside the doorway. If I thought CJ's room was messy, one look at this room is all it takes to alter perspective. It is a veritable tip. Clothes are scattered over the floor, books are piled haphazardly on the desk, and a plate of something indistinguishable lies abandoned on the windowsill. Ben and Phillip are sitting on the bed and both turn as I enter – Phillip with a welcoming smile, Ben with a questioning frown.

‘Hey, just thought I'd see how it's going.'

‘Fine, Mum.'

‘Actually, I was telling Ben that I think they should be okay by tomorrow or so. But it looks like someone has fed them something they shouldn't.'

‘It wasn't me,' I say defensively.

‘I didn't imagine it was,' Phillip says magnanimously.

‘I did.'

‘Thanks, Ben.' I give my faithless son a Look, which he totally ignores. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, Phillip – or something stronger?'

‘Actually, a cup of tea would be lovely, thanks.'

‘Me too,' adds Ben.

‘How do you have it?' I ask Phillip, pointedly ignoring my son.

‘White and weakish, thanks.'

Well,
that's
interesting – he is going out with Bloody Elizabeth after all. I wander up to the kitchen and put the kettle on just as the phone rings . . . and rings. Samantha comes racing out of her bedroom, now dressed adequately in tracksuit pants and an iridescent green crop top.

‘Isn't anyone going to answer that?' she yells rhetorically to nobody in particular as she picks up the phone.

‘Hello? . . . Oh, hi, Dad . . . I'm fine . . . Yes, I told her . . . hang on. Mum! Mum! Dad wants to talk to you!'

‘Tell him I'm sorry but I can't come to the phone right now.' I bustle noisily around the kitchen and try to look appropriately busy with the kettle and some teabags.

‘Why not?'

‘Because I'm making tea for Phillip!'

‘Okay. Hello, Dad? She can't come coz she's busy making tea for Phillip . . . Who, Phillip? He's like a friend . . . No, about Mum's age . . . Yep . . . Okay . . .
Yes
, that'd be great! I'll tell Ben . . . Yep, I'll tell her . . . Yep, got it – that beanbag, right? . . . Okay! See you then.'

She hangs up the phone and I stop straining my ears. The beanbag? What about the beanbag? I pour hot water into the mugs while I wait patiently for her to come and tell me what that was all about, but she never appears. Finally, I simply finish the tea, put the mugs on a tray with a plate of chocolate-chip biscuits and go to find her. She is leaning inside Benjamin's doorway talking to him. Phillip is still sitting on the bed and is now forcing an eye-dropper full of some purplish concoction down Rover's throat. If that rabbit throws up in here, I am
not
cleaning it up.

‘What did your father want?' I look around for a clear space on which to place the tray. There is none.

‘Oh. He's taking Ben and me out for tea tomorrow night. To, like, a
proper
restaurant.' She gives me a look that speaks volumes about all the second-class establishments that I obviously force them to frequent.

‘Is that all?' I kick some clothing to one side and put the tray down on the floor.

‘Thanks, Mum.' Sam picks up my mug of tea and takes a gulp. ‘Mmm, delicious.'

‘That was – never mind. What else did your father say?'

‘Well, he did say that we had to dress nicely. Did you hear that, Ben?'

‘Yeah, whatever.' Ben doesn't take his eyes off Rover, whose own eyes are starting to protrude in a most unattractive manner. If this is Alex's idea of a positive step in building a relationship with his son, it's not a particularly good one. Ben and restaurants, especially ‘proper restaurants', are like chalk and cheese. Alex would have been better off sticking to the pizza on the floor like last night.

‘Was there anything else?'

‘Um . . . he wanted to know who Phillip was.'

‘I hope you told him he's Aunt Elizabeth's boyfriend,' I say primly, knowing full well that she skipped that bit, but also well aware that Phillip is listening unabashedly to the conversation. A friend, indeed. I wonder what Alex thought of that?

‘I can't remember.' She frowns at me. ‘Why, does it matter?'

‘Of course not.' I look at Phillip, who grins at me fleetingly before shining a light into Rover's now bulging eyes. The rabbit immediately begins to work his back legs frantically. Yep, I agree. He's definitely alive.

‘Anything else?'

‘God, Mum! If you're so interested then why don't you answer the phone yourself next time!'

‘Don't be so rude! It's only that I thought I heard you say something about telling me something, that's all.'

‘I hear your father's living next door now?' Phillip dumps the frenetic rabbit into a cardboard
box by the bed, picks up his mug of tea and turns to look at Sam. ‘That'll be great for you two. I'm looking forward to meeting him.'

‘Oh, you'll like him. He's really fantastic,' Sam says enthusiastically.

‘Was. There. Anything. Else?' I enunciate the words slowly and distinctly while I spare a moment to fervently wish that
I
was a rabbit and could therefore devour my young with no legal repercussions.

‘God, Mum! No, there – hang on, he
did
say something about going furniture shopping tomorrow and if you're interested in giving him a hand, just give him a ring.'

‘Oh . . . I see.'

‘And he said something about that beanbag.'

‘
Beanbag
?' I repeat stupidly in a rather high-pitched voice. ‘What
about
the beanbag?'

‘Something about you and the beanbag.' Samantha is now looking at me curiously. ‘You know, I think he meant that disgusting looking beanbag he's got.'

‘Well, what?' Is my face going red? Are my legs turning to jelly?

‘The one that looks like a piece of swamp.'

‘Not that – what did he
say
?'

‘Let me think . . . something about not to worry –'

‘
What
?'

‘Hang
on
! I'm trying to think! . . . Oh, that's right, he said you're not to worry, even with the new furniture, he's definitely hanging on to the beanbag. The one that looks like a bit of swamp. Gross. And why do
you
care?'