Flying the Coop (31 page)

‘So what would you
do
if you took over the world?'

Chris closed her mouth with a snap as she recognised Lauren's voice. She did this because, firstly, there was only one person that Lauren could have been speaking to up there and she wanted to find out if she really
had
lost her twenty dollars. And, secondly, because the answer to this question was something Chris herself had always wanted to know – but never got a straight answer.

‘Lots of things,' came Zoe's voice in reply. ‘For starters, I'd ban meat-eating. Everyone'd be vegetarian.'

‘But
you're
a meat-eater!'

‘I know, but that's only because there's so much around. If there wasn't, then I wouldn't be. See?'

‘I suppose,' Lauren sounded doubtful. ‘Me, I'm just going to take over Australia.'

‘
Sure
you are.'

‘No, I'm serious. I'm going to be the first female prime minister.'

‘How're you going to do that?' Zoe's voice was a strange mix of derision and curiosity.

‘I've already started. I'm studying mainly law, economics and politics at the moment and I'll keep them up through to the end of high school. In the meantime, I'm doing all sorts of community type stuff and practising being nice to everyone. You never know what sort of contacts you might need later. Then I'll go for law at university and after I've qualified, I'll get a job at a prestigious law firm, wait a few years and then go for local politics. Work my way up.'

‘You
are
serious.' Zoe sounded grudgingly admiring.

‘Deadly serious. What about you? What's your plan?'

Silence followed this question but Chris was certainly not going to be the one to break it. Apart from the rather fascinating glimpse into Lauren's real character, there was the fact that she was closer to finding out about her daughter's goals than
she had been since Zoe, at the age of eight, announced she was going to be a hermit when she grew up.

‘I dunno,' Zoe muttered finally. ‘I'm not stupid, you know. There's no chance I'll
really
take over the world. It's just something I'd
like
to do. And I'd do a bloody sight better job than the dickheads who are running things now.'

‘I agree,' replied Lauren. ‘You sure couldn't do worse.'

‘Yeah.' Zoe's voice was vicious and was accompanied by a dull thud, as if she had kicked something in frustration. ‘Bunch of idiots. Maybe I'll win Tattslotto or something, and then I can pay mercenaries to be my army.'

‘Nah, you couldn't trust them. They'd as likely stab you in the back. Or poison you.'

‘Yeah. But it'd be my only chance.'

‘Not necessarily.' Lauren sounded thoughtful. ‘You know, I reckon you're on the wrong track altogether.'

‘What'd you mean?'

‘Well, you've got to look at where your talents are. Like all this druid stuff, that's all very well but it's really just a hobby. It's this stuff you've been showing me here,
that's
your talent. You can do more damage with this than you ever could with druidry, or even an army. It's an
amazing
weapon. If you use it wisely, anyway.'

‘I suppose.' Zoe sounded doubtful.

‘I
know
. God, I wish
I
could do this sort of thing! I tell you, I wouldn't be going for law and all that if I could do this. You're going to make an impact way before I do.'

‘You think?'

‘Sure! You look at this one –'

But before they could, the outer door of the barn bounced off the wall as it was flung open and the voices above stopped abruptly. The sudden light made Chris blink and she shaded her eyes in order to make out Mac's figure as he entered the
barn – with Ergo right behind. As the alpaca gave out a few delighted snorts and started loping rapidly across the barn towards her, Chris reflexively shot up the first five rungs in her gumboots and hung on with one wing wrapped around the uppermost rung. Just as Zoe's head appeared over the edge of the gap above and stared down at her.

‘Mum! Are you
spying
on me?'

‘Of
course
not,' replied Chris self-righteously as she clambered awkwardly up another rung and kicked her foot at Ergo, who was stretching his neck out and snorting threateningly.

‘Hey, careful, Red!' Mac frowned at her. ‘You'll hurt 'im!'

‘Heaven forbid,' muttered Chris crossly.

‘You've still got the chicken costume on!' Lauren's head joined Zoe's. ‘How'd it go?'

‘
Chicken
costume?' repeated Mac, coming over to the bottom of the ladder and staring at Chris's orange legs. ‘I've never seen a bloody chicken look like
that
.'

‘You look ridiculous,' said Zoe rudely. ‘What'd you want?'

‘I came to tell you your
father's
here. All right?'

‘Whatever. I'll be there in a minute.' Zoe's head disappeared.

Noting that Mac had led Ergo over to the workbench, Chris retreated cautiously and clumsily down the ladder and sidled around the barn towards the side door. By the time she got there, Zoe and Lauren were both clambering down the loft ladder.

‘I'm still a bit worried about Ergo's eyes,' commented Mac, without turning around. ‘They look inflamed to me.'

‘Really?' Chris stood poised on the threshold.

‘Yeah. You don't seem real concerned but I'm tellin' you, Red, you'll miss this guy if anythin' happens to him. When it comes to keepin' th'grass down and th'foxes away, this one's a champ. Yep, there's no flies on Ergo.'

‘I'm not surprised,' said Zoe, with a sly look at her mother.

‘Look, I
am
worried.' Chris ignored her daughter. ‘But I'm just a bit rushed at the moment. Zoe's father's here to collect the kids and I need to get them ready. Then there's the fact that I'm still dressed in a chicken suit. So could we talk about this later?'

‘If there is a later,' muttered Mac darkly.

‘Great! Speak to you then.' Chris made her exit and jogged flat-footedly across the yard towards the veranda noting, as she passed the enclosure gate, that Michael had left his road network as requested. As she ran up the veranda steps she saw the cat leap nimbly down from the far railing and pad quickly up to her, no doubt expecting something to eat.

‘You have to be kidding. No more food for you, you charlatan.' Chris waved a wing dismissively at the cat as she kicked off the gumboots. She flung the screen door open and hurried inside.

‘I thought you must have collapsed somewhere,' said Jenny, obviously not too concerned about this possibility as she was still contentedly stirring the meat sauce for her lasagne. ‘Your coffee and sandwich are on the table. There was no ham so I used chicken loaf.'

‘Isn't that cannibalism?' asked Garth, who was sitting at the table next to Cynthia, both of them with a cup of tea.

‘Who cares?' Chris slid into her chair and picked up the sandwich. ‘Thanks, Jen.'

‘Then at least tell me why you're wearing that get-up.' Garth swept her with a critical gaze, lingering somewhat around the leg region.

‘Do you mind?' Chris crossed her legs awkwardly.

‘It's all about bonding,' said Jenny. ‘See, the chooks need a leader, so –'

‘Hey, Dad.' Zoe came through the office door and, rather unexpectedly, dropped a kiss on the top of her father's head. ‘Do you know Lauren here?'

‘Hello, Mr Lloyd.' Lauren advanced with her hand out.

‘Why, I haven't seen you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.' Garth shook her hand. ‘You look exactly like your . . .' He paused, looking from Jenny to Lauren, who actually looked nothing alike.

‘Dad says I look like the postman.' Lauren grinned and then held out her hand to Cynthia. ‘You must be Cynthia. I'm Lauren Parker. Pleased to meet you.'

‘Likewise.' Cynthia took the hand and shook it lightly.

‘So, you two girls getting along well then?' asked Garth, in his best hearty voice.

‘Whatever,' scowled Zoe.

‘I'm going to go shop-
ping
,' sang Jenny, waving her ladle like a baton. ‘With my twenty bucks.'

‘Are you all right, Mum?' Lauren looked at her mother with concern.

‘Fine, thanks.
Better
than fine, in fact.'

‘O-kay.' Zoe exchanged glances with Lauren and then turned to her father. ‘Dad, um . . . are we doing anything special this weekend?'

‘Well, I thought we'd stop at one of the vineyards on the way and have a late lunch. Then, when we get back to the city, I want to show you this apartment I'm thinking of buying. It comes up for auction the weekend after next. And tomorrow you and Michael can choose what we do. I thought maybe the Polly Woodside?'

‘The Polly
Woodside
?' repeated Zoe, with a notable lack of enthusiasm. ‘Yeah. Whatever. Look, Dad, do you think it'd be okay if Lauren comes along? She'll be real bored stuck here for the weekend.'

‘Not that
you're
boring,' said Lauren to Chris quickly.

‘Well, I suppose . . .' Garth glanced at Cynthia, who looked aghast at the thought. ‘That okay with you, Cyn?'

‘Oh! Ah . . .' Cynthia tried to rearrange her features into something a trifle more welcoming. ‘Yes. Sure! Why not!'

‘Excellent!' Zoe grinned with pleasure. ‘C'mon, Lauren. Let's go pack.'

‘Shop-ping, shop-ping, shop-
ping
,' sang Jenny as the two teenagers left the room via the kitchen stairs.

‘It's okay.' Chris finished her sandwich and glanced across at Garth and Cynthia. ‘She's always like this when she's been drinking.'

‘Drinking!' exclaimed Cynthia, looking askance at Jenny.

‘Anyway, where's Michael?'

‘Getting changed,' said Garth, clearly pained. ‘He was filthy.'

Chris pushed her plate away and leaned her head on one hand tiredly. She glanced over at Garth and was suddenly struck by how out of place he seemed. Like he just didn't
go
here. The impeccable clothing, the faint smell of expensive aftershave, the over-confident manner, the taste in girlfriends. And Chris realised that, if Garth
had
been here in a permanent way, then he would only have been here as the boss. Directing, overseeing, managing. She grimaced at the thought.

Michael came bouncing down the stairs, now relatively clean and dressed in a fresh pair of shorts and a mucus-green Hulk t-shirt. He was dragging the backpack that Chris got ready for him the night before.

‘Okay, let's get moving.' Garth stood and smoothed down his jeans. ‘Otherwise we won't be having lunch till three. Thanks for the tea, Jenny, and good to see you again.'

‘Are you sure it's okay for Lauren to go along too?' asked Jenny.

‘Positive. In fact seeing as that's the first time I've seen Grace smile in three years, I think we should adopt your kid. What'd you say, Chris?'

‘Think I'll pass.' Chris took a sip of coffee and sighed happily. ‘No offence, Jen.'

‘None taken.'

‘Bye, Mum!' Michael wrapped his arms around his mother and gave her a wholehearted hug that spilt her coffee.

‘Bye, Mikey. Be good.'

‘Okay then. Just send the girls out when they're ready.' Garth ushered Michael towards the doorway. ‘I'll have them back around teatime tomorrow.'

‘Bye, Christin.' Cynthia placed her barely touched cup of tea by the sink and smiled at Jenny politely. ‘Nice to meet you.'

‘Likewise.'

The two girls came hopping down the stairs, both carrying an overnight bag, and added their goodbyes. And then, within a few minutes, they were all gone. Chris leant back and let the silence wash over her. Then she grinned up at Jenny.

‘Peace.'

‘And quiet.'

‘Speaking of peace –' Chris looked around – ‘what have you done with Dot?'

‘She's at square dancing. And she took Ken.'

‘No wonder Mac was so grumpy.'

‘Yep.' Jenny stared at the contents of the frypan for a moment and then suddenly turned it off, laying the ladle down on the bench. She turned to Chris. ‘What do you say I freeze this and we go out for tea instead? We'll get dressed up. Or, if you prefer, you can stay in that.'

‘That's a great idea!' said Chris enthusiastically. ‘Although I think I'll get changed.'

‘Good! Let's get the afternoon egg collection done early and give ourselves the night off.' Jenny started rummaging through the cupboards in search of a plastic container.

The doorbell rang, echoing stridently up the passage, and Chris reluctantly hefted herself out of her chair. ‘That'll be them back again. Someone's forgotten something.'

‘Well, you sort it out and I'll start cleaning up here.'

Chris waddled down the passage and opened the front door, fully expecting to see either Zoe or Michael standing on the doorstep. Instead she was faced with an enormous bunch of red roses wrapped in gold tissue-paper with a multitude of curly gold and red ribbons dangling from the centre. Below the roses was the lower part of a dove grey polo shirt and a pair of long, denim-clad legs. The roses moved to the left and there was Stuart, Jenny's errant husband, looking at her rather shamefacedly.

‘Hi, Chris. How's things? What on earth – are those
wings
?'

‘Stuart!' Chris stared at him. ‘What're you
doing
here?'

‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. Is she here?'

‘Yes, in the kitchen. But I don't think she's very pleased with you.'

‘I brought roses,' said Stuart, as if that made everything all right. ‘
Red
roses.'

Chris shook her head in exasperation. She was actually quite fond of Stuart, who she had known even before he and Jenny had become a couple. He had aged rather well in the years since she had seen him last. His tall figure carried the extra weight quite evenly and his dark hair was doing the distinguished receding trick rather than the bald patch that required the dreaded comb-over. But he also looked tired, and rather worried.