Lessons From Ducks (23 page)

Matt shot up the bank so fast she barely saw him move.

“What?” he protested defensively when he saw her smirk, “I’ve seen documentaries, they grow to insane sizes!”

“It’s because of all the children they eat,” she laughed when Oscar hightailed it out of the water so fast he almost knocked his father to one side. It was a deep bellied laugh, one that left her cheeks aching when she finally caught her breath and wiped an escaped tear away. She clutched at her stomach, “Oh I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”

Oscar was surveying the water, his face white. “Do they really eat children?” he gulped.

“Have you ever seen a stray sandal just lying around on the beach?”

“Yes.”

“Well there you go. Washed down rivers and out to sea, their hapless owners never to be seen again.”

Oscar gulped harder. “
Seriously
dad?”

Matt laughed. “Sorry to bust up the party Anna, but if I ever want him to dip his toe in the water again I’d better come clean. No,” he shook his head to reassure his son, “it’s not true. Besides, I think they’re vegetarians.”

Anna couldn’t help but smile sadly as she unpacked the food onto the blanket. This was how she imagined her future would be. Excursions like this with her boys and any other kids they’d been blessed enough to have. She wondered if she would ever do anything ever again that wasn’t a painful reminder.

“Tuck in,” she said when she unpacked everything.

Matt whistled loudly threw his teeth. “You’ve gone to quite the effort. What have we done to deserve this?”

“Done? You haven’t done anything. I just thought it would be nice to have a picnic dinner. It’s something I used to do a lot in summer.” If Matt sensed the sadness behind the voice he didn’t say anything.  “I almost forgot,” she added, getting to her feet –kneeling in the spilt coleslaw in the process, “Oh yuck,” she said, and wiped it off with a napkin, - “stop eating for a second and look at this. Ta da,” she flicked the switch on the solar powered fairy lights and with a flourish they sprang to life, illuminating the tree and the air around them like hundreds of luminous fire flies.

Oscar swallowed his sandwich. “Wow,” he said, eyes wide, “that’s pretty cool.”

Matt nodded in agreement. “Very nice. Did you put them up there yourself?”

“No,” she said. “Fairies did.”

“Fai -? Oh, I see. You’re being sarcastic.”

“Are they electric?” Oscar asked.

Anna sighed. The magic was being stifled by stupid questions. “Yes,” she said. “There’s a six hundred metre extension cord running back to the house.”

“Where?” Oscar looked around them.

“I think she’s being sarcastic again,” Matt laughed.

“Pass the matches out of the basket,” Anna told him. She lit tea light candles from a packet and placed them in jars dotted around the tree. “There.”

The lights looked lovely but their full effect wasn’t apparent until the sun dropped behind the trees and stars started to sparkle in the immense sky above and the light deepened into a vintage denim colour. It was then that Anna’s handiwork became alive. The lights shone like little stars themselves, and combined with the flickering candles the picnic area looked magical and like something out of a story book. Anna’s earlier comment about fairies suddenly seemed entirely possible.

They ate in peace, the gentle babble of the water as it travelled steadfastly on its journey to the river mouth and beyond that, the sea was the only sound to disturb the silence. When she finished eating, Anna lay down on the blanket and closed her eyes and imagined she was a leaf taking that journey.

She loved the sea and tried to remember the last time she’d been. Ah yes, it was when Ben was only a few weeks old. She’d been wildly optimistic. A day at the beach would be good for them all, she declared. Some salt air and a vigorous walk would clear the cobwebs, with Ben in the mountain buggy pram that had cost them the earth but which had thus far done nothing apart from clutter up the hallway and stub her toe on two occasions.

They’d packed up the car with all the essentials, plus a few hundred things they didn’t need but wanted to have on hand just in case, because as they were fast learning, with babies you always needed the one thing it turned out you’d forgotten. Then they’d set off, spirits high, anticipation making them giddy. They sang ‘The wheels on the Bus’ for the time the journey took, making up new things on the bus as they went along. But when they got there, a southerly wind was blowing in off the ocean, and despite having three sorts of mosquito repellent Anna realised she’d forgotten to pack the sunscreen, so spent the entire time fretting about wind burn and sun burn and covered poor Ben in so many thick layers of muslin that the poor boy never even saw the beach, let alone got a dose of healthy sea air. The buggy, while impressive in appearance, proved utterly useless and Tim cursed more that day than she’d ever heard him curse before as he had to dig the tyres out of the sand one too many times, and strain to overcompensate for the buggy’s tendency to steer right – towards the water – when he wanted it to go left. By the time they arrived home a few short hours later, nursing aching forearms and feeling more exhausted then when they’d set out, they decided not to repeat the experience until Ben was at least old enough to appreciate the experience his parents were trying to give him.

She wished she had thrown caution to the wind and dangled her baby’s toes in the water, and let him feel sand on his bottom.

Before summer was over she would go, she decided. Catch a bus or maybe even call up one of the ladies from work, or a friend she hadn’t talked to in years and see if they wanted to make a day of it.

“Anna?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean it. This was just what I needed.” Matt leant back against one of the crates, watching as his son used one of the jars to try and catch a large moth that was circling the light.

Anna opened her eyes and pushed up onto her elbows, arching her back and yawning. The physical exertion from the swim, coupled with the good food and fresh air had made her sleepy right through to her bones. She contemplated the walk home and wished she’d brought a sleeping bag with her. Before Ben came along, she and Tim had done that a few times, slept by the river under the stars. She had always found it an incredibly grounding experience. Nothing like the great expanse of the universe turning above to remind her just how small her little pocket of the earth was.

“Sometimes I forget to just stop, you know.” Matt continued. “Work, paying bills, all that grown up stuff; I needed this little reminder to stop and enjoy life. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I took the boy camping. We used to love doing that, when he was little. Me and him, we’d take off for the night, sometimes into the forest, sometimes the beach. Pitch a tent and cook on a small camp stove.” He shook his head. “Why did we stop doing that?”

“Because mum didn’t like it, remember?” Oscar said quietly. Matt hadn’t realised he was listening. “She thought it was dangerous.”

“Oh,” Matt remembered the arguments then. “Yes.” His face clouded over in the flickering light from the candles. Then he brightened. “Still, she can’t stop us now eh? We should do it again, soon. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Oscar grinned and paused from waving a stick at the moth. “Can we go next weekend?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Cool,” Oscar repeated, his face shining with excitement.

“Well guys,” Anna reluctantly started to pick up the picnic things, “I guess we should be heading back. It’ll be
dark soon and my bed is calling.” She yawned as she packed up the basket, although packed was a loose term as she merely threw everything in and resolved to sort it out the next day.

“Yeah I guess we should,” Matt agreed, getting to his feet and picking up the blanket, folding it in one swift move and tucking it under an arm. “Are we going to try and take those down now?” he asked, eyeing the lights in the tree above.

“No,” Anna shook her head. “I think I’ll leave them there. They look pretty. Who knows, it might entice me to dine out here more often.”

“Can we come again too dad?”

‘If Anna will have us, sure.”

“Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s a saying Anna, like a rhetorical question.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

They blew out the candles in the jars, leaving one each to carry to light the path home, although the moon was so bright they almost didn’t need them. The air was soft and warm and the scent of night blooming jasmine came to them on the breeze. It was heady and sweet and made their heads woozy with a natural intoxication. At least, that’s the excuse Anna came up with the next day when she thought about what had happened next.

Seeing them off at the front door, Oscar walked ahead up the garden path and she was just about to close the door when Matt turned suddenly and hurried back to her. He stopped only an inch away, surprising her with his proximity. He smelt of grass and the river and the night, and she inhaled this essence of him without thinking. She was unaware that when she did so her pupils dilated into big, black puddles and her lips parted involuntarily.

Matt noticed. Longing seized him and before he could stop to think about it he acted, leaning forward to kiss Anna.

She was so shocked and so out of practise in the ways of anything romantic that at first she just stood there, stiff like an ironing board. Matt was just beginning to think he’d made a terrible mistake when he felt her soften and lean in to him, and her lips pressed against his as gently as a whisper. She was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted; sweeter than chocolate, or champagne, or summer strawberries. A small, embarrassed cough from the end of the garden path reminded them of where they were and whose eyes were right then being exposed to this spontaneous romance. Anna jumped back, her fingertips flying to where his lips had been seconds before.

“Goodnight,” she said in a high pitched voice, and closed the door.

Matt stared at it for a moment, and his hand lifted up to knock but then he heard his son’s voice in the darkness.

“Yuck dad,” it said.

His hand dropped. He smiled at the door then turned and walked to his son, slinging an arm around his shoulders as they walked to the car.

“What’s the matter?” he said, “You think your dad is too old to kiss girls?”

Oscar shrugged his arm off. “Yes. Thank god nobody else saw you.”

Matt laughed as he put the key in the lock and unlocked the car doors, “get in you,” he said. “Honestly. You act like I’m bloody ancient.”

Chapter thirty

Back inside the house Anna also stared at the door for a moment. Her heart was racing in her chest and her lips felt as if she’d dipped them in sherbet.

“What on earth?” she whispered.

Turning off the downstairs lights – after checking on Buddy who was nestled snugly in his box and snuffling softly – she made her way upstairs where she showered with her shower cap on, selected the blue striped pyjamas that always made her feel like a sailor, and slid into her bed, pulling the sheets up under her chin.

But sleep wouldn’t come because she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It had all happened so quickly she wasn’t even really sure it was happening until it was over. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone she wondered if she’d done it right. Maybe things had changed in the last few years and she didn’t know and right now Matt was somewhere thinking, ‘well that was odd
.’

It had felt right, though. Well, it had felt nice, and surely that was the same thing. The weirdest part was that she couldn’t decide how she felt about it. Was she happy it happened? Did she regret that it had happened? Or was she ambivalent? “Ugh,” she moaned, turning on to her side and punching up her pillow a little more aggressively than normal. Only now she remembered the angst that came along with all things romantic. Married life had been so easy in comparison. Having someone who you could just be yourself around was underrated, it really was. She had taken it for granted, as many people most likely currently were.

Her eyes focused on the pillow in front of her. A very small indent remained, though as not as pronounced as it once was. She reached out a hand and tentatively touched it. Squeezing her eyes shut she pictured his sleeping face, as she’d seen it so many times. So many times that she hadn’t ever thought to stop and appreciate it. Sometimes in fact she’d grumbled at it. Sometimes, and she was ashamed to admit this, she’d resented it deeply for snoring and keeping her awake. On those occasions she even felt like stuffing a pillow over it.

A tear rolled out of one eye, across the bridge of her nose and down past the other eye to soak into the pillow below. It felt wrong, to be here, beside Tim’s memory, having done what she’d just done.

“I’m sorry baby,” she whispered. “It was just a kiss. It doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Her guilt kept her tossing and turning and sometime around three am she gave up and got out of bed, passing the blue door – she couldn’t face that accusing room either – and made her way downstairs where Buddy was still fast asleep. He quacked and gave her a reproachful look when she turned the light on.

“Sorry,” she said and turned it back off. She flicked the light switch on the small rangehood over the oven instead – less intrusive - and made herself coffee before curling up on the couch and turning on the TV.

Celebrity apprentice reruns were on, and she watched with half her attention until the Don finally pointed his finger and said his immortal words and a celebrity – who’d she’d neither seen nor heard of before – flounced from the room refusing to shake the hand of her triumphant rival.

Anna sighed and hit the kill switch, the silence wasting no time in rushing back to fill the void. There was only one thing for it.

The dawn found her amongst the roses, still in her pyjamas, muddied and weary. She had pruned and weeded beneath the light of the moon, and the physical activity had kept the guilty thoughts at bay. As the town came to life around her, noises carried to her on the soft morning breeze, she stood and stretched, arching her neck so her face was upturned to the brilliant colours of yet another sunrise.

In the new light of day she made a decision.

Across town, Matt emerged from his blankets with a stretchy smile and a contented sigh. He kept his eyes firmly shut so he could bask in the memory of The Kiss. It was unlike any other kiss he’d ever experienced, but not in a way that he could put his finger on. As far as kisses go it had been fairly standard; lips here, pressure not to firm as to be aggressive, not so soft as to be construed as weak. Tongues had been gently introduced while teeth were kept at a polite distance. Yes, it had all been run of the mill as far as kisses go, and yet most magnificent at the same time.

Even his alarm failed to pop his happy little bubble. He bounded out of bed with an energy his body hadn’t felt since his early twenties. When Oscar arrived at the breakfast table shortly after he had to rub his eyes to check whether it was indeed a feast in front of his eyes or some mirage brought on by pent up hunger.

“You cooked?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“But I
am
surprised.”

“Your old man’s not completely useless.”

“Seriously,
you
cooked all this?” Oscar took in the plates of crispy bacon, golden hash browns, sunny side up eggs and steaming hot baked beans. It wasn’t a gourmet meal by any means, but it may as well have been the finest French dining as far as this table had ever seen.

“Look, keep sounding surprised like that and I can just as easily take it away.”

Oscar shut up and sat down quickly lest this feast be snatched from in front of him. He devoured the whole lot in five minutes, sneaking sideways glances at the man who to all intents and purposes
looked
like his father, but who suddenly cooked and hummed while he washed dishes and even flicked Oscar playfully with a tea towel as if they were on some fancy butter commercial.

“Are you feeling ok dad?” he asked, watching his father arrange the tea towel tidily on the oven door instead of just scrunching it up and wedging it in there as he normally would.

“Hmm? Yes, never felt better,” Matt beamed. And it was true, he hadn’t.

Oscar couldn’t ever remember seeing his father look so happy. “Is it because of Anna?” he asked, and nearly fell off his chair when his father blushed. Oscar had never seen his father blush before.

“humpftsghtydyghst,” his father mumbled, which Oscar assumed meant yes.

After dropping Oscar back off at his mothers, Matt decided to tackle the supermarket for a big shop, something he hadn’t done in quite some time. He did this with a bounce in his step and a whistle on his lips. He smiled at everyone he saw and if he’d been wearing a hat it was entirely probable he would have doffed it. When he thought about Anna and that kiss he couldn’t stop himself from beaming like some kind of village idiot.

Under the fluorescent lights of aisle four, in front of the chocolate section, he made a decision.