The Great Christmas Breakup Part 9

On the plus side, she'd been whisked off for a tour of Manhattan by Hammertro, whose eyes had locked onto her bare legs in the micro mini and failed to detach.

*When will Cecily 2 wake up,' J said, still in his day clothes. *My friends want to meet her on Skype.'

*It's two in the morning,' I told him. *Go to bed.'

*But there's no school tomorrow,' he protested. *And Cecily 2 is the type to stay up late, isn't she?'

I observed my son. He had the best combination of all the genes of my side and the only worthwhile ones the Teesons had to offer: blonde hair, curly like his dad's and deep blue eyes. His olive skin was the same shade as mind, and to top it off, he had somehow inherited the blossoming body of a surfer (without ever having been near the ocean).

*What type, exactly, is she?'

Carson stepped in and surprised me. *Come on Scar, we all know about Cecily 2. You can't blame a boy for wanting to impress his friends.'

Impress? That wasn't the word I'd have used, but I let it go.

I was exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that I let Carson sleep with me.

And didn't even complain when he snuck his left arm around my shoulders.

- Cue one of very few cherished Carson memories: Carson knew about Dad. I'd told him when we'd begun to get serious, because it was a big deal for me a a husband cheating on his wife.

*I'd never do that to you.' This was said as we walked along the banks of the Hudson.

Not the most idyllic of walks but it had become a ritual for us. Sunday afternoon, we'd scavenge whatever was cheap from the market stalls, carefully lay them out on the table of the miniscule studio flat we rented for an extortionate monthly sum, then set out, bundled up, for our trek.

Snow, wind, sun, rain a no matter what nature threw at us we welcomed it, because of the feast we had waiting for us at home.

*It's probably the ketones that make doing this feel so good,' Carson said.

*The what?'

*They're released by your body when you're hungry, or so I've read.. And they're supposed to be really good for you.'

Since Carson and I had started dating, the kilos had begun to creep on, but I figured the huge walk every Sunday was enough to keep the weight gain at bay.

So we walked and talked about all sorts of things, including Dad.

*Now that he is getting older, you might want to go and visit him?' Carson said.

*He'll be okay. That woman is probably keeping him young.'

Carson had considered my expression carefully. *You need to let it go, Scar, one way or another. Maybe confront him?'

*How can I,' I cried. *What would that do to Mum? What if he ran off with the bimbo and left her?'

*If he hasn't already, he won't,' Carson reasoned. *The alternative is to try and forget it. Pretend you don't know.'

*But I do,' I said, irrationally. *That won't work.'

*Let's agree to disagree then,' he said, companionably. *Now, which are you going to have first, the pate with ciabatta, or those falafel thingies?'

I heard Cecily 2 get up at around four a.m., but by morning she was back, thankfully alone and with all her clothing intact. I got up to check, because I didn't want the kids walking in on something that couldn't be protected with a parental lock, like the TV channels on a laptop.

*You up?' she said, burping loudly. At least she wasn't yelling.

*You drunk?' I responded.

*Yep. What of it?'

Sighing, I decided to go back to bed. Let Carson deal with his sister. When I got back in bed and his arm moved to reposition itself, I sloughed it off. He and his b.l.o.o.d.y family were really too much to bear.

Dan Phillit had reduced my hours, so I purposely stayed in bed until nine. I heard the predicable rattle of cupboard doors as the kids searched for breakfast. Sitting up, I thought I'd make a dash for the shower before the J got in there. The hot water had been known to run out when school and work weren't calling. In fact, I could do with a ma.s.sage: my back ached a little from standing at that stupid counter at Flindes most of the previous afternoon and evening. That nasty Phillit, or pillock, as Carson called him, had rearranged my roster so that my s.h.i.+fts were the most inconvenient he was able to manage at short notice.

If only I could find a job that didn't make me want to pop my clogs.

*Not con-flakes again,' I heard Jessie moan.

*Since when are they con-flakes?' Carson said.

*Since Mum started buying the ones that don't have any corn in them. This is child abuse, you know.'

*They'd probably have better food at an orphanage,' Cecily 2 yelled.

*Aunty Cecily, put something on!'

Carson and Cecily could now be heard discussing something in less than hushed voices.

Serve Carson right.

Let him deal with his defenseless children catching sight of his half-naked sister a particularly as it seemed from my husband's screams that it was the nasty part that was naked.

Jessie and J came bounding in. *Dad is just having a conversation with her, and she's, like, nude,' J informed me.

I got up, angry once more. Could the b.l.o.o.d.y man at least tell his s.k.a.n.ky sister to put something on? Was it so difficult to wear knickers when you were in someone's house?

*That image is going to be seared into my brain forever, Mum,' Jessie told me, giving me a hug.

*I know baby,' I said, feeling completely and utterly wretched.

The moment I heard Cecily 2 lurching about on the sofa, I should have jumped up and managed the situation.

Pulling my dressing gown around me, I stepped into the kitchen, which was located right off it, and surveyed the mess.

It had been clean when I'd left it, less than eight hours previously. Now, packets of everything from sugar to pasta were open, the fridge was open and blasting cold air into the already freezing flat, and there was something that looked like maple syrup edging its way down the pantry cupboard door.

*What is going on in here?'

Cecily 2 shrugged.

I had to look away a who wore a nightie that short?

*Just experimenting with what you've got. Don't worry, I'll pile everything in the dishwasher when I'm done.'

*We don't have a dishwasher,' I said, trying to keep my temper. *Unless you count me.'

*I'll leave it to you then, if you insist, sista.'

I glared at Carson, the familiar rage building, but all he said was that Cecily 2 should get changed so that he could show her around the neighborhood.

He emphasized the word *changed'.

*Hope you've got plenty of hot water,' Cecily 2 chirped, sashaying her sinewy, naked backside out of the room. *I like to take long, long showers.'

b.i.t.c.h.

Carson did the sightseeing and I managed to come up with chicken a la onions and a couple of carrots for supper. I knew that Dan Phillit did the day's markdowns at exactly 6 p.m., so I sent J down with my discount card to pick up some milk, bread and a cream cake for dessert at six on the dot.

Mauve, like all girls under twenty, had a thing for J, so she didn't quibble about the rule that I had to be present for the discount to be applied. Even at a hefty discount, we couldn't really afford the extra bits and pieces, but I figured that pretty soon I would throttle Cecily 2 and end up in prison, so this might well be one of our last suppers together.

The phone rang just as I was putting finis.h.i.+ng touches of dried oregano (the only herb I had in the Lazy Susan) onto the chicken legs.

It was seven, so I hoped Carson was on his way home and not calling about some holdup, or worse, that he was going to work and leaving me to deal with his sister on my own.

If he did that to me he'd wish he was in a holdup!

*Muuuuum,' called Jessie. *It's for you.'

*It better not be your father,' I said, taking the phone under my chin as I tried to encourage some juices from the elderly chicken to make a gravy.

*Scarlet? Is that Scarlet?'

Not Carson.

*Look, I told you before, I don't need any quotes for windows or car insurances, nor do I wish to become involved in any pyramid selling schemes.'

*Do people actually try to sell you those over the phone?'

This was a new tactic.

*You'd know.'

A brief chortle. *Would I?'

Wait a minute? The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

*Who is this?'

*I'm offended that you don't know.'

Still jolly.

*Hmm? Tom Cruise?' I wished.

*Oh far better looking than him.' I could hear the smile in his voice. Where did I know him from?

*Brad Pitt.'

*Slightly poorer.'

*George Clooney.'

*Okay, a lot poorer.'

*Then I have no idea.'

*Here's a clue, Lolly gave me your number.'

My heart stopped. By the time it restarted I was taking huge, heaving breaths.

It couldn't be? Even though there was no way the caller could see me, I self-consciously pulled at my s.h.i.+ft dress and rubbed at some chicken fat that had splattered on my black tights.

*No. Really? The mayor?' A feeble joke, but it bought me time to regain normal breathing.

*Hah hah hah. It's Robert Simpson. Don't you remember me? Lolly said she'd mentioned that we'd b.u.mped into each other.'

Robert Simpson was actually on the phone to me right now!

*Right . . . Robert. How are you?'

I simply couldn't believe I was talking to the Robert Simpson a after all these years.

The man who might have been the one a if it wasn't for Carson.

Perhaps Robert should have been the one?

No hope of a re-do, said the evil voice inside my head, thanks to your huge backside.

I told the voice to shut up; I wasn't planning on an affair, was I?

Even if Carson was the hugest form of sodding prat the world had to offer.

Suddenly, a noise from outside distracted me. I moved over to the window at the sound of a loud guffaw, to see Cecily 2 and Carson alighting from a cab. Where had they got the money for that?

*Look, Robert, I am really sorry, but I'm kind of in the middle of something.'

*Sure, of course, I shouldn't have called right at dinner time.'