Flying the Coop (39 page)

‘You wouldn't even be able t'paint the town pink in your condition,' said Dot disparagingly. ‘You could barely get up those steps there!'

‘Just watch me, woman!'

Chris thought quickly. ‘I've got a better idea. I'm waiting on a phone call, so why don't the two of you go out for dinner? And don't look at me like that, Dot, I'm not trying to match-make or anything. Think of it like old times. Don't you feel it's nice sometimes to do things just for old time's sake?'

‘What?' Dot flashed a wary glance at Chris, but she just smiled back innocently.

‘Excellent idea, Red.' Mac put a hand on the balustrade railings and used this to pull himself up. Even with this support, it was obvious that it was a painful procedure. Chris reflected that the man had probably aggravated the damage to his ribs
with his little horizontal jaunt down memory lane last night. Served him right.

‘I defrosted kidneys for dinner,' grumbled Dot.

‘All th'more reason to go out.' Mac manoeuvred himself slowly down the steps, with Geraldine following him patiently, and then turned to look back at Dot. ‘C'mon, woman! What're you waitin' for? We're not getting' any younger, you know!'

‘Okay, okay. Coming, you old fool.'

Chris waved goodbye and watched their rather slow progress over to Dot's side fence. There, Dot opened the rhododendron framed gate and helped Mac through solicitously. Mac muttered a few curses at the chooks that swarmed around their ankles and then the two of them, with the dog between them, disappeared from sight into Dot's house. Chris smiled to herself, then struggled to her feet and took her scotch over to the papasan chair where she settled herself down comfortably.

The increase in sales was fantastic news, much better than she had hoped for. Even if half of those customers never came again, the half that did represented a significant increase. And if Beryl had already sold out of her stock, that meant she would most definitely increase her weekly order. Plus it seemed two more businesses were willing to stock the eggs. It certainly looked promising.

But for once Chris was determined not to leap in with guns blazing so loudly that she couldn't hear what was really going on. The outlook appeared a lot rosier than it had when she had first taken over, or even a week ago, but she was going to wrap herself with a dignified cloak of cautious optimism, and proceed with both prudence and vigilance. In other words, she wasn't going to count her chickens before they hatched.

From:
Neil Mackaway

Date:
Saturday, 18th November 2006. 7.16PM

To:
Christin Beggs

Subject:
Hi again

Could I please ask that you not do a ‘wink, wink' thing about my parents staying together under the same roof. Very disturbing. But apart from that, I'm really pleased the two are finally talking again. They're both so damn stubborn that I'd given up hope. I hear you're having a weekend on the town, hope you enjoy yourself.

Cheers, Neil

From:
Christin Beggs

Date:
Saturday, 18th November 2006. 7.46PM

To:
Neil Mackaway

Subject:
Re: Hi again

No, I cancelled the weekend – too much work to do around here. Re the ‘wink, wink', I think you'd better brace yourself – and that's all I'm saying. You'll be pleased (I know I am!) to hear that the article has worked wonders. Sales have tripled and I can't thank you enough. Hope your father's injury doesn't mean that you'll be spending Christmas alone up there. I suppose you could always come down here and join the gang!

Chris

‘M
um! Guess what!'

‘What, Christin?
Don't
tell me you and Garth are getting back together!'

‘Good god, no.' Chris shuddered involuntarily. ‘Much, much better. It looks like the farm's definitely going to be a goer!'

‘A
goer
? What exactly does that mean?'

‘It means we tried changing the way we do things and it's worked! Brilliantly!'

‘Oh, that
is
lovely. Hang on, I'll tell your father.' Chris's mother held the phone away for a moment. ‘Graham! Graham! Christin has marvellous news – the farm's a goer!'

‘As in goer, goer, gone, I bet,' mumbled Chris's father quite clearly.

‘Tell Dad he's wrong,' said Chris with irritation. ‘We've put in a lot of work here and it's finally paying off. If he was here, he'd see.'

‘Christin said don't comment on things you can't see with your own eyes, Graham. It shows profound ignorance.'

‘I did not say that!'

‘She did not say that! Did she?'

‘Oh, and how are the children, Christin? I just bet little Michael is turning into a regular farmer boy, isn't he?'

‘He sure is.' Chris played with the phone cord absently. ‘About the farm, Mum, I want to tell you about the changes we've made. It's like –'

‘I'd love to hear, Christin, of
course
I would. But I'm afraid I'm due at Margery Roxburgh's house for a séance. We're trying to contact her late husband – actually, Christin, it just occurred to me that he was a farmer too! He had a sugar thing going up past Townsville. Do you want me to ask him for any tips?'

‘Ah . . . perhaps not.' Chris rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, what's sugar got to do with eggs?'

‘Pavlova,' replied her mother without hesitation. ‘And meringues, or pikelets. Or –'

‘I stand corrected,' interrupted Chris. ‘But if you're going out, why don't you pop Dad on? I'll chat to him instead.'

‘Sorry, Christin, I'd love to but I can't. He's just this minute gone out.'

‘Who's gone out?' Chris's father's voice came quite clearly.

‘And there's my lift now. Gotta go. Talk soon. Love you!'

‘Hello, I'm leaving a message for Frank McNeal. I understand he's a real estate agent there. Although I've been told he
is
a rather ineffectual one as he's never made a sale. But I've seen him around and there's something about him that I'd like to explore . . . real estate speaking, of course. So I particularly want
him
to come out and give me a quote on my house. Tomorrow mid-afternoon would be good. Please come to, um . . . hang on – oh, yes! 3 Sunshine Avenue in the new Lakeview Estate. Thank you.'

‘They're so cute!' Chris squatted in the doorway of the room and stared over at the huddle of tiny two-day-old chickens. They
were like tiny balls of yellow fluff that, every now and again, sprouted a pair of thin little legs in order to clamber over a nearby sibling. Within moments of being released into their new quarters, they had all shot into the furthest corner and displayed their athletic ability by building a poultry pyramid against the wall. And, all the while, they kept up an incessant, high-pitched cheeping that Chris guessed was only appealing in moderation.

‘Cute?' Mac glanced at the tiny chicks, perplexed. ‘You wait till you've spent a few nights with them.
Then
we'll see how cute you think they are!'

‘Nights?' Chris abandoned her perusal of the chooks to turn to Mac, puzzled.

‘Yeah, nights. Did you think I was joking when I said you had to stay out here with them?'

‘No, of course not.'

‘Yes, you did,' Mac laughed at the expression on her face. ‘Well, I'm afraid you've gotta. Th'little buggers drop like flies at this age if th'temperature dips even slightly. You need to watch them like a hawk. Don't look like that, it's not so bad. Th'camp stretcher out there makes for a nice kip. Just make sure you use mosquito netting and just ignore th'mice.'

‘The mice,' repeated Chris numbly. She turned back to the baby chickens and watched silently as they tumbled up and over and around each other. But they didn't look so cute anymore.

‘Hello. This is Chris Beggs from Beggs Eggs out on Zoello Road ringing for the electrician. What I'm after is – well, we have a sort of incubator out the back for baby chicks and I want an alarm rigged up so that it sounds inside the house if the temperature drops below a certain level in the incubator. Is that possible? If so, could you please give me a call back. It's pretty urgent as I sort of need the work done by tonight. It's life or death. Much appreciated.'

‘I wanted to talk to you two.' Chris put down her cutlery and looked across the table at both Zoe and Michael. ‘Why haven't you been carrying on about it almost being Christmas? I mean, usually I'd have lists by now and all that sort of thing. There's been nothing. Why not?'

‘No reason,' muttered Zoe, pushing a brussels sprout around her plate.

‘It was Zoe's idea,' piped Michael. ‘She said we weren't to ask for anything this year coz all the money had to go to the farm. She said if we asked for stuff then we'd have to move back to the city. And I don't
want
to move back to the city.'

Chris stared at Zoe. ‘Is this true? Were you
really
willing to skip Christmas presents to stay here?'

‘Of
course
.'

‘But I'd have liked a puppy,' said Michael wistfully.

Chris looked from one to the other earnestly. ‘We don't need to skip Christmas. And it wouldn't have happened anyway. Number one, it looks like the farm's going to pick up, and number two, no matter how broke I was, I still would have found
some
money to buy presents. They mightn't have been huge things, but there's no way this family skips Christmas. Understand?'

‘Yippee!'

‘In that case, can I have an MP3 player?' asked Zoe. ‘I'd prefer an iPod coz they're more versatile, but they're a few hundred so see how you go. Oh, and I've got a list of CDs I'd like. And I'd like a dog too. Something big and black, please.'

‘I want my dog to be smaller.' Michael held his hand out to approximate the size needed, dragging his sleeve through his plate on the way. ‘But like Geraldine when he grows up. And I'd also like some new cars. No clothes, please. Then from Santa, I'd like the set of Harry Potter DVDs, and some game-boy games, and a remote control car. And do you reckon you could buy a bridge? I really need one for my roadworks.'

‘And I'd like a book on wicca. And one on druidry too,' added Zoe. ‘But not modern-day ones. I want to read up on the old ones. From Stonehenge times. And I'd like a new cover for my mobile, too.'

Chris, who had been feeling rather touched by their willingness to do without for the sake of the farm, stared at them open-mouthed. Then she did a rapid, and rather stunned, calculation of what their requests would roughly total and stopped when her maths failed the task. She looked at Michael, who was regarding her eagerly with his elbows on the table, one sleeve dripping mashed potato and gravy. Then she transferred her gaze to Zoe, who was obviously trying to think of anything she might have forgotten. Chris sighed. ‘On second thoughts, can we go back to skipping Christmas?'

‘Hi, Chris, it's just me. Why aren't you home? Anyway, my computer's on the blink which is why I haven't been emailing lately. But I don't want to get another computer until . . . well, until Stuart and I work out what's happening. Mind you, maybe it'll all work out. I don't know. Anyway, the marriage counsellor says one thing we need is time away. So we're leaving for a dirty weekend next Friday. I've even bought a heap of flimsy lingerie things! Wish me luck. Hey, did you know that Zoe and Lauren have been ringing each other regularly? I should be getting interest on that twenty bucks! Anyway, talk soon. Bye.'

‘Hi, Chris, it's Annie here. Great to see you the other day. Listen, I'm going to be down in Healesville on Boxing Day for a Royal Winton collectors' meet. It's going to be huge! Collectors from all over Australia'll be there with heaps of stuff for sale or swap. Anyway, I thought I'd drop around afterwards – see what your farm looks like
and all. Ring me back and let me know if you'll be home for visitors on Boxing Day. Actually, I've just had a better idea! Come
with
me – you'll have a ball! Wall to wall Royal Winton, and mainly the chintz porcelain too. Give us a ring. See you!'

‘I need to talk to you about Christmas.'

‘Oh.' Garth glanced at Cynthia and then returned his gaze to Chris. He looked guilty.

‘And
we've
been meaning to talk to you, too,' said Cynthia eagerly.

‘Well then, you go first.' Chris leant against the open door of the car and waited. They were on one of the interminable children handovers, but this time they had met halfway to save each other some of the bother. Both Zoe and Michael jumped straight into Chris's car, keen to return home, but she had headed over to Garth's 4WD, determined to finally sort out the Christmas logistics.

‘It's like this.' Garth took a breath and stared out of the windscreen. ‘I won't be able to have them this Christmas at all. I'll make it up to you in the New Year.'

‘Not at
all
?' Chris looked at him, astounded. She had never expected such great news – now she'd have her children for the whole of Christmas
and
she wouldn't have to drive anywhere either.

‘No. I've just told the kids this weekend.'

‘But I don't understand. Are you going away?'

‘It's actually your fault, Christin,' interjected Cynthia from the passenger side. ‘You got him started about doing things you've always wanted to do, even if it sounds ridiculous. Though first off, when you went to the farm, he was saying that you'd
never
make a go of it, and that you'd chuck it in within a month, and that you were –'

Garth interrupted crossly. ‘Christ! I don't think she needs to know all this!'

‘Oh, probably not,' agreed Cynthia good-naturedly. ‘I'll get to the point then. When we saw what a success you're making of things, it made Garth start thinking about the things
he's
always wanted to do. Like, if you can do it, so can he.'

‘Wasn't quite like that,' muttered Garth sourly.

‘So we've given notice on our apartment, and we've got till settlement in February to live it up! Well, actually a week or so before because I'd like some time to get things sorted and –'

‘So what are you going to do?' asked Chris, with considerable interest.

‘We're leaving for the US on the twentieth of December,' replied Cynthia, who seemed to have appointed herself official spokesperson. ‘And we're going to spend Christmas in Colorado – then we're going white-water rafting down the Grand Canyon!'

‘My god, Garth!' Chris looked at her ex-husband with interest. It was totally unlike him to be spontaneous, and she hadn't seen any sign of the adventure-seeking, younger Garth for years.

‘Gotta give it a go,' Garth mumbled at the windscreen.

‘Well, I have to say I'm
absolutely
touched that I'm having such a positive influence on you.' Chris laid an arm along the top of the car door and looked into the distance melodramatically. ‘That my willingness to seek my dreams, to take a few risks, to act on my innate courage, has broken through your play-it-safe approach. It makes everything worthwhile. It
really
does.' Chris paused as Garth started the engine rudely. Then she stuck her head through the door. ‘Hang on! Before you go, do you want me to give Farrah Fawcett a call to warn her? Or are you planning the surprise approach?'

‘Hello, Mrs Lloyd? This is Emily Boardman, Zoe's English teacher. I'm ringing about Zoe. Not that she's in any trouble – quite the opposite. As you're probably aware, the class had to do an essay last week on global trends and Zoe's piece was nothing short of amazing. She has a true talent, Mrs Lloyd, which I'm sure you've nurtured over the years. And you should be very proud. Now I'm letting you in on a little secret here, but Zoe is going to be awarded a prize at assembly next week for her essay. It's a fully paid weekend away at a writing retreat. It's run by some established authors and it's a wonderful opportunity for Zoe. I'm only giving you a head's up because it will involve transporting her to Woodend and back in January. So if that's a problem at all, please let me know. I don't want to give her the prize and her not be able to use it. Thanks.'

‘Hi, Chris. Me again. Do I sound depressed? If not, it's just because of my amazing thespian powers. So, why am I depressed, you ask? Well, for starters, the dirty weekend was exactly that – dirty. I spent it on my hands and knees . . . gardening. I'm taking all the damn lingerie back tomorrow for a refund and I really wish I could do the same with Stuart. Because, you probably guessed it – he cancelled at the last minute. Was called up to Bundaberg to finish the job off. I told him that if he went, it was another nail in our marital coffin and he said I was being overly dramatic. But do you know, after the last month being so awkward around each other and bloody counselling and all, I don't think he really cares either way. I know I don't. Anyway, cut to the chase, can I come down there for Christmas? Lauren can choose whatever she wants to do, I don't mind, but I need to get away. Ring me.'

‘Had a call from Elsie the other day.'

Chris automatically glanced across at Dot to see how she
was taking this last statement of Mac's, but she appeared perfectly complacent about it.

‘She wanted me to collect that 'oward,' Mac chuckled. ‘She reckons it ate 'er dog.'