The Listmaker (12 page)

‘I'm sorry,' I mumbled, turning bright red and avoiding Corrie's eye. ‘There was a truck going by while we were on the phone. I really thought you said to –'

‘I didn't mean you had to charge all the way into town with that chess set, specially in such a heatwave. Still, now it's here, we might as well see how it looks on display … Oh, for heaven's sake, child, be
careful
!'

Corrie, jumping up helpfully to get the chess set from where I'd left it on a chair, had fumbled and dropped it. There was a moment of tense silence. It would be awful, I thought, if Piriel scolded her. Somehow you just couldn't tear strips off someone so well-meaning and cheerful, no matter how aggravating they were. But Piriel, I remembered,
could
tick people off quite bluntly. I'd heard her do that once, when we'd gone to collect her car from being serviced and they hadn't fixed something she'd specially pointed out. Although she hadn't raised her voice, listening to it had been … chilling. Piriel, I thought, having such high standards of efficiency herself, must find it maddening when other people fell short. I was glad I hadn't fallen short yet.

Luckily, nothing was damaged. Corrie, whose face had crumpled with alarm for once, let out her breath in a great whoop of relief. The chess set, arranged at one end of the coffee table, looked as though this particular room had been designed on purpose to hold it. Piriel was very pleased with the effect, and came right down into the foyer to see us off.

‘Next time we'll make it a proper visit, Sarah, so you can use the pool,' she promised. ‘It's been filled with water now, you'll be glad to hear. Better not go around to have a look, though; save it for another day. These traffic lights always take ages to change, so you'd better nip across to the tram stop while the going's good. Bye for now …'

I glanced back while we waited for the tram, but she'd already gone back inside the apartment block. In a few weeks' time, I thought, I'd be there with her to help entertain visitors. I'd make it one of my jobs to buy things like almond wafer biscuits on the way home from school. Piriel would be pleased by the organised way I made lists, so that nothing important was ever overlooked or forgotten …

‘Your dad's girlfriend sure is pretty!' Corrie said, which made me thaw a little towards her. I even thought of saying I'd do my best to get her invited properly to the wedding. But then, spoiling all her chances, that ignorant, opinionated, foot-in-the-mouth Corrie Ryder added, ‘I'm glad it's you and not me that's got to live with her, though! I reckon she's just like –'

‘Like
what
?' I demanded.

‘Like the ice-lady ruler in the next kingdom. And she never even thanked you for bringing in that stupid-looking chess set, either!'

1. Floors flat. (Well,
   flatter
   , anyhow.)
   
2. Doors fixed.
   
3. Wiring checked.
   
4. New plumbing in downstairs bathroom.
   
5. Even the pelican tiles don't look too bad in there now the walls are painted. (NB Train Aunt Dosh not to leave her gumboots lying around in nice new downstairs bathroom.)
   
6. Leaky roof mended.
   
7. Eagle shelf buffed up with tan boot polish, missing eye replaced with yellow bead from one of Aunty Nat's old brooches – looks okay now.
   
8. New house number on gate. (Eileen didn't do such a bad job with the flying swallows after all.)
   
9. Whole garden tidied up.
   
10. Avian Cottage painted inside and out. Looks quite nice, really (ie looks
    terrific
    ).
    

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

My Cedrona knights lolled inside the fortress and just sent out warrior apprentices who weren't really much practical use. The ice-lady, having sized up the situation, was threatening total invasion, and I didn't have any more gold to use for bribes. My border bristled with menacing triangular flags, like shark fins. It was hard to concentrate on the game, anyhow, because of Ed Woodley's clattery trips through the courtyard. This was his last day at Avian Cottage, and he was packing up all his gear. No more tripping over paint-roller trays in the hallway, I thought; no more dodging ladders or being sent down the street to buy peculiar things like tap washers, wing nuts, grouting, or a new caulking gun (the other one broke when Aunt Dorothy dropped it off the roof while helping him seal a gap round the chimney). It would feel strange not having Ed around. I'd even got used to his corny jokes at morning tea, lunchbreaks, afternoon tea and all the times when Aunty Nat had invited him to stay for dinner.

I froze the game, leaving the computer switched on in case any last-ditch solutions came to mind. On the other side of the cloud curtains, Ed Woodley strode by with a load of planks balanced across his shoulder. Aunty Nat had been quite pleased that those curtains weren't needed at the apartment after all. Although she'd had to add a flounce to make them long enough to fit this window, it didn't matter much because she'd already sneaked a frilly edging onto the new doona cover. In spite of that, they looked nice against the freshly painted walls, which were pale-blue, except for the one covered with the big forest poster. I'd got used to looking at it first thing in the morning, so I'd asked Ed to leave it as it was. People staying here overnight when this room became the guest room might like it, too. I glanced around at the items I'd have to leave behind, wondering if those guests would think they were awful. Perhaps not. Avian Cottage was full of old stuff that didn't match properly, so even the shabby roll-top desk I'd inherited from Aunt Dosh just blended in somehow. So did my cedar chest. Maybe I'd be able to reclaim both of them one day, if Piriel and Dad found other places in the apartment for their exercise bike and home-gym treadmill. It was going to be
traumatic,
not having that roll-top desk to do homework on.

Someone banged on the courtyard door. I could see Corrie through the stained-glass magpie panel, but because of the remarks she'd made about Piriel, I didn't smile at her when I opened the door.

‘No one heard me knocking upstairs, so that's why I came round the side,' she said, irritatingly snub-proof. ‘Dad sent over these plants for your little courtyard. It's just a few handfuls, but it spreads like crazy if you keep it damp. We could dig it in now, if you like.'

The plants were wrapped in damp newspaper, and she wasn't even bothered about the muddy water trickling down the front of her shirt. If it was meant as a gift, then it was a
ridiculous
one to give a person who'd soon be moving to a different place.

‘Thanks,' I said coolly. ‘But I'm busy with something else right now. If you dump that down somewhere, I'll let Aunt Dorothy know. I think gardening's more of a hobby for
elderly
people.'

Corrie still wasn't put off. She just raved on about various loopy ideas she'd had for the Ryders' own garden. (One of them was growing a huge maze down the back and charging admission, and another was learning about topiary so she'd have a whole yard full of tree-animals.) ‘You could do interesting things like that in your courtyard,' she said. ‘On a smaller scale, of course, but there's still enough room. There's an old statue in our shed if you want it. It's a lady in a nightie thing holding a flat bowl, and the bowl's meant to be a birdbath. All it needs is –'

‘That's the very
last
thing I'd want. The birds round here certainly don't need any encouragement. They already squawk around the house all day long. Specially those grey ones with the spotty bands around their necks.'

‘ “Janine just flew! The sky is blue!” '

I stared at her, eyebrows raised.

‘Don't mind me,' Corrie said. ‘It's just that funny call doves have, like saying a phrase over and over. It sounds as though they're on the phone gossiping to each other all the time. “It's up to you! I burned the stew!” Listen, there's one at it right now …'

Far down in the garden I heard a dove call quite distinctly, ‘Have
you
seen Hugh?', repeating it several times like a recorded message. ‘He just shot through,' another one answered obligingly. I'd always thought the noise those doves made for hours on end was monotonous, but I suspected that from now on they'd be totally infuriating! Just as maddening as Corrie, who noticed the computer screen was on and darted inside before I could do anything about it. She didn't even wipe her shoes on the mat. (That mat's days were numbered. Aunty Nat had ordered a new folk-art one from Eileen Holloway, with magpies on it to match the door.)

‘You've certainly landed in
big
trouble!' Corrie said, after switching to ‘play' without even asking.

I inspected the ice-lady's pennants gloomily. All the poor little apprentice knights had taken fright and were scurrying back towards the castle.

‘Trying to make those lazy big-shot fighters come out is a pain in the neck,' Corrie said. ‘It wastes too many points. There's no use trying to smarm up to
her
, either. It only works for a little while, and she just wants more and more in the long run. Maybe we could try something else. How about building an extra fortress way over the other side? With a bit of luck she mightn't notice …'

She began to make a secret road across the marsh, heading towards the snowcapped mountains of Cedrona. The ice-lady soon twigged to what was going on, and seething with outrage, dispatched twenty of her fiercest knights. Our road builders downed their tools and ran. A few minutes later, an alien banner shot triumphantly up on our castle tower and the game was over.

I switched off the computer and started to brush my school blazer. It didn't actually need brushing, having been drycleaned only last week. The name-tag was loose, though, so I found some grey cotton and sewed it back into place. Everything I wore at school had a name-tag, because of living at the boarding house. Corrie probably never had to worry about labelling all
her
clothes, I thought, looking at the blazer, the neatly rolled grey socks, the five gingham dresses with white collars, feeling suddenly depressed. I didn't even
like
that uniform. Or the school, either.

Corrie tried my prissy hat on in front of the mirror. ‘Just as well
I
don't have to go there,' she grinned. ‘This thing makes me look like one of those dopey Cedrona knights. You know, it's weird, Sarah, how you never seem to talk much about your school. The other kids or anything …'

‘It's a
terrific
school,' I said huffily. ‘We're getting a new Physical Education and Sports Complex this year. It's
enormous
. I can hardly wait to get back and see all my friends again. Specially Tara. She's so funny, she always has everyone in fits. She started boarding the same year as me, and we always kind of end up sharing the same room …'

Though that wouldn't happen this year, I thought, because of not being a proper boarder any more. I'd just be staying there occasionally when Dad and Piriel were away. That would most likely mean sleeping in the tiny single room next to the shower and toilet block. No one could get much sleep if they were put in there, so normally it was just used to store luggage. But sometimes it doubled as temporary accommodation. Besides, Tara had already asked Mrs H. if she could move in with someone else this term. Ages ago, before I'd even known I'd be a day-girl this year, she'd asked Mrs H.

I put all my school things back into the wardrobe. There was a photo album on one of the shelves, a beautiful gold-embossed expanding one Dad had bought for me in Rome. There was also a box of loose photographs which needed sorting out. Arranging items in order seemed an ideal job at that moment, somehow comforting. I tipped the box contents onto the bed.

‘Is this your father?' Corrie asked, glancing through the album. ‘It must be like having a movie star for a dad!'

It
was
a nice photo. Aunty Nat had taken it at the airport, the first time he'd gone to the UK. Dad didn't usually like to be seen off on trips, but because he was going to be away for so long, he'd made an exception for that one. Corrie turned a page to an even better photograph of him, taken when he'd married Lorraine. They
both
looked like movie stars, posed underneath the canopy of some London hotel, smiling at the camera. It always felt peculiar coming across that picture, though. Unreal, somehow, like looking at faces in a magazine. I sometimes even felt that Lorraine mightn't have existed, except in my imagination. There were just those few letters she'd written, memories of being wild with excitement, memories of telling everyone at school that I wouldn't be boarding next term, that I'd be living in a house with my dad and new stepmother. Then, nothing.

‘Who's that with him?' Corrie asked. ‘Piriel, isn't it?'

‘
Piriel
? Of course not! That's just someone Dad met when he was working in London once,' I said briefly. ‘They got married, but it didn't work out. So then they got divorced.'

‘Oh … sorry,' Corrie said, but added, ‘She really
does
look like Piriel, though. They've both got the same kind of eyes and expressions and everything.'

I didn't say anything, writing dates and captions on the backs of all the recent photos I'd taken. Sometimes pictures could slip out of album pages, so it made sense to label each one neatly beforehand. Keeping
everything
in order was important. It was like having a map, a compass.

‘They even kind of
dress
the same,' Corrie claimed, examining the photo of Piriel I'd shown around at school. ‘You know, everything all smooth and silky.'

‘They've both got important jobs, so
naturally
they've got to look smart all the time,' I said, taking the album from her and slamming it shut. ‘It's rubbish, anyhow, saying they look like each other. Anyone can see they're not. It's just as dumb as that thing you said the day we went into town, about Piriel being like the ice-lady.'

‘Oh, that …'

‘Yes,
that
.'

‘I didn't mean anything, really. It was just something that slipped out.'

‘Were you by any chance hinting that Piriel's kind of bossy?'

‘Well …'

‘People
could
get that impression meeting her for the first time, but they'd be way off the mark. She might sound a
little
bit bossy every now and then, but –'

‘Sarah, honestly, I never … Oh damn, Mum says I'm always blurting out things without thinking first! Dad reckons you can't take me anywhere.'

‘It's just that she's got very high standards about everything, and I certainly don't see there's anything wrong with
that
. It was a rotten thing to say. That ice-lady's so nasty, sneaking around trying to get her own way all the time and not caring about anyone else. Piriel doesn't even
look
anything like her! That ice-lady's got pale-blonde hair down to her waist, and Piriel's happens to be dark red, in case you haven't noticed. So
there
!'

I was starting to sound a bit like Aunty Nat and Aunt Dorothy in one of their squabbles. Or worse still, like Jessica and Jasmine Werner in the school boarding house. They were always running off to snitch on each other to Mrs H. Once Jessica dragged her mattress into the corridor, saying she'd rather sleep out there than share the same room as her pig of a sister. (That was because Jasmine was cutting her toenails and a clipping shot across the room and landed in Jessica's ear.) In a minute, I thought,
I'd
be threatening to go next-door and tell Mrs Ryder on Corrie.

‘I'd better get on with all the other things I have to do,' I said less fiercely, finding to my surprise that I didn't particularly
want
to quarrel with Corrie Ryder. She wasn't so bad, really. In fact, I kind of
liked
her. ‘There's a phone call I have to make. Dad got back from overseas last night – well, not back exactly, because he has to stay over in Sydney for a few days. He called Aunty Nat from the airport to let her know. I was asleep, but he said if I ring round about now there'll be time for a chat.'

There was a lot I wanted to talk to him about. School, for instance. And if something could be fixed so that I wouldn't have to board there any more, even temporarily. If he could somehow find out if Piriel had been able to make my dress for the wedding, because I felt so awkward about asking her personally. How nice Avian Cottage looked now; how excited Aunty Nat was about holding the wedding there; that she'd be so devastated if it didn't happen …