Six Impossible Things by Fiona Wood Read Free Book Online

wags his tail, I’m the one responding to the approval, and remembering for next time.

    Estelle and Phyllis are heading off and I’ve missed my chance to walk with them. Although, with my level of smooth moves, I don’t know how I would have managed the three abreast, plus dog on lead, walk and talk without tripping over someone, probably myself.
    Howard and I mooch on home, checking all the windows for real jobs. The only one is in a clothes shop and says ‘retail experience essential’. Mrs Nelson at the op-shop waves as we walk past. I wave back, feeling like a complete knob.
    By the time we get home my mother and Oliver are looking pretty damn chummy, with an almost finished bottle of wine on the table. He must have supplied it seeing as wine is a luxury. From the way he looks at me – sympathetic, understanding (why does everyone think they understand?) – I can tell she’s blabbed the full family catastrophe. What is the woman on? We don’t even know this guy. After years of warning me about it, has the whole stranger-danger concept suddenly escaped her? Do I have to do all the worrying around here? Yes, and yes, apparently. And what happened to the notion of privacy? Stuff that’s my business, stuff that I might not want to share with the whole world? Out the window.
    I can’t believe my ears when she invites him to stay for dinner. Thankfully, he’s got other plans. What would Dad think? Well, of course, he wouldn’t care. If he did, he’d be here, going through all this crap with us. Instead of . . . I don’t know what he’s going through by himself, but it’s his choice. So screw you, Dad, I hope you feel as shit as I do. But still somehow I feel a whole lot worse thinking of him by himself.
    I try to escape straight after dinner, but no such luck.
    ‘Dan, you’re not going anywhere; I need your help,’ says my mother. I stay, but she’s cracking it now because I said ‘whatever’. She hates that word. Her rave goes on in the background while we give the kitchen an almighty scrub down and I wonder about my dad. How
is
he going? Where’s he staying? Is he hungry like me, now there’s no money? How often does he think about us? Should I talk to him when he rings? How long will he keep trying before he gives up on me? Before he drifts off, another iceberg that used to feel so securely attached?
    ‘Dan, watch what you’re doing! You’re flooding the place.’
    An exaggeration. I tipped one bucket of water over the floor. The way they wash down decks, in movies. How else do you wash it? Since I was little we’ve had a procession of nice Mrs Somebodies doing all our dirty work around the house, so it’s not as though I’ve participated in this sort of thing before. Does she think it’s instinct? Are babies born knowing this stuff? Is it contained in our DNA? I doubt it.
    ‘
Dan
!’
    Uh-oh. More water down. I’m not concentrating.
    ‘Leave me to finish this, you’re no help at all,’ says my mother, red in the face with anger and effort. She’s not used to this cleaning caper either.
    ‘And tomorrow, I’m going to show you how to clean a bathroom.’
    I can’t wait.
    Inventory of can’ts:
    1 Can’t wash floors.
    2 Can’t talk to girls, especially Estelle.
    3 Can’t get a job that pays.
    4 Can’t mind Howard when I take him out.
    5 Can’t trust the stables guy.
    6 Can’t talk to my dad.
    There are more. Let’s be frank. This list could run to thousands.

10
    O VER BREAKFAST – CEREAL AND four pieces of toast with peanut butter and jam – I try to warn my mother about getting too friendly with Oliver, but she’s not buying it.
    ‘You’re being silly. He’s perfectly pleasant.’
    ‘That’s how they lure people in. The best psychopaths are the plausible ones. Everyone knows that.’
    ‘He seems well adjusted, he’s employed, he has a sense of humour, he has a girlfriend.’
    ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
    ‘She’s in London.’
    ‘London, or feeding