browned off! Though he’s bagged a room (the best) for a studio so I hope he’ll start painting. He’s petrified of the spiders! Quite sweet really. I’ll bore you rigid with photos when I get home. Garden lovely and I’ve started a compost heap
.
Give Katie the biggest hug you can without squashing her. And stroke Cat for me, give him some extra Munchies. Thanks again for having him. Lots of love
,
Cassie
xxxxx
Eleven
Graham lets his head hang back, stretching his throat. The sky is wrong. The constellations warped and much too fierce.
That’s the Southern Cross,’ Larry says. He leans close to Cassie on the log seat beside the barbecue. Graham watches her chin travel up, her eyes follow his finger through the meaty smoke and into space. ‘That group of three and –’
‘Tucker’s about done,’ Fred says. ‘Where’s the plates?’
‘Refill?’ Larry offers more wine around. Whatever they are likely to go short of here, Graham thinks, at least it won’t be booze.
Mara sits beside him, the flesh of her thigh pressing against his, her smell again, maybe just the smell of an older woman, sort of ripe. She’s wearing the same old sheet, dark smudgy lipstick. Scarlet parrot-feather earrings tangle with her hair.
‘Like your earrings,’ Cassie says.
‘Fred made them for me.’
‘Make you some an’ all if you want.’
‘Oh thanks!’
‘Keep your eyes skinned for a couple of nice feathers.’
‘Most intelligent creatures on the planet, parrots,’ Mara says. ‘Fred said, didn’t you Fred?’
‘Humans aside, presumably.’ Larry eases out another cork.
‘Heard it on the radio.’ Fred flips the kangaroo steaks over one last time. ‘Ready with them plates, Laz?’
Laz?
Things are obviously fine between Fred and Larry now but earlier he’d left them in the kitchen to go for a slash and when he’d got back they’d been rowing. Least, he’d heard Fred shout something and, rather than walk into the middle of it, he’d gone away again. But maybe he’d got it wrong.
‘Some test they did,’ Fred continues, hefting alarming hunks of meat on to the plates, ‘whales, dolphins, dogs, parrots, and parrots came out tops, would you believe.’
‘Can’t imagine
how
you’d test a whale alongside a parrot,’ Cassie says.
‘Anyway!’ Mara is triumphant. ‘Parrots won!’
Graham winces at the thought of such intelligent creatures flying free,
thinking
all over the place. Thinking
what
? Doesn’t seem right, somehow. Some old aunt or something of his mother’s they used to visit when he was small had had a parrot, a stinking grey thing, blind in one eye, that clutched your fingers in its scabby claws if you stuck them through the cage. ‘It’ll have your finger off,’ the old woman used to say but he couldn’t resist poking at it, though the smell nearly made him choke. He wonders what
it
thought, if it was so clever.
Larry hands out the loaded plates. In the light from the kerosene lamps the meat looks almost black, covered in ashy flecks. Graham takes a bite of the tough charry meat and chews.
‘What do you think of the kangaroo?’ he asks Cassie.
‘Very nice,’ she says through a mouthful, refusing to meet his eye.
Larry sits back down beside her with a contented sigh. ‘Fine bread, Cassandra.’
Cassie swallows with difficulty. ‘Thanks.
Please
call me Cassie.’
‘If that’s what you’d prefer. Though it seems a shame to mutilate such a beautiful name,’ Larry says.
Fred guffaws. ‘Mutilate! Get a hold of yourself, mate!’
‘Cassie,’ Larry says, tipping his glass to her.
She smiles and sips her wine. Graham stares at her expression, sort of pleased and smug. Is she getting off on these smarmy looks?
‘So, you’re gonna be painting?’ Fred says. ‘Used to dabble in that line a bit meself.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Years back.’
‘The painting in the kitchen that caught your eye,’ Larry says.
‘That’s not you?’ Graham looks through the smoke at
.
Give Katie the biggest hug you can without squashing her. And stroke Cat for me, give him some extra Munchies. Thanks again for having him. Lots of love
,
Cassie
xxxxx
Eleven
Graham lets his head hang back, stretching his throat. The sky is wrong. The constellations warped and much too fierce.
That’s the Southern Cross,’ Larry says. He leans close to Cassie on the log seat beside the barbecue. Graham watches her chin travel up, her eyes follow his finger through the meaty smoke and into space. ‘That group of three and –’
‘Tucker’s about done,’ Fred says. ‘Where’s the plates?’
‘Refill?’ Larry offers more wine around. Whatever they are likely to go short of here, Graham thinks, at least it won’t be booze.
Mara sits beside him, the flesh of her thigh pressing against his, her smell again, maybe just the smell of an older woman, sort of ripe. She’s wearing the same old sheet, dark smudgy lipstick. Scarlet parrot-feather earrings tangle with her hair.
‘Like your earrings,’ Cassie says.
‘Fred made them for me.’
‘Make you some an’ all if you want.’
‘Oh thanks!’
‘Keep your eyes skinned for a couple of nice feathers.’
‘Most intelligent creatures on the planet, parrots,’ Mara says. ‘Fred said, didn’t you Fred?’
‘Humans aside, presumably.’ Larry eases out another cork.
‘Heard it on the radio.’ Fred flips the kangaroo steaks over one last time. ‘Ready with them plates, Laz?’
Laz?
Things are obviously fine between Fred and Larry now but earlier he’d left them in the kitchen to go for a slash and when he’d got back they’d been rowing. Least, he’d heard Fred shout something and, rather than walk into the middle of it, he’d gone away again. But maybe he’d got it wrong.
‘Some test they did,’ Fred continues, hefting alarming hunks of meat on to the plates, ‘whales, dolphins, dogs, parrots, and parrots came out tops, would you believe.’
‘Can’t imagine
how
you’d test a whale alongside a parrot,’ Cassie says.
‘Anyway!’ Mara is triumphant. ‘Parrots won!’
Graham winces at the thought of such intelligent creatures flying free,
thinking
all over the place. Thinking
what
? Doesn’t seem right, somehow. Some old aunt or something of his mother’s they used to visit when he was small had had a parrot, a stinking grey thing, blind in one eye, that clutched your fingers in its scabby claws if you stuck them through the cage. ‘It’ll have your finger off,’ the old woman used to say but he couldn’t resist poking at it, though the smell nearly made him choke. He wonders what
it
thought, if it was so clever.
Larry hands out the loaded plates. In the light from the kerosene lamps the meat looks almost black, covered in ashy flecks. Graham takes a bite of the tough charry meat and chews.
‘What do you think of the kangaroo?’ he asks Cassie.
‘Very nice,’ she says through a mouthful, refusing to meet his eye.
Larry sits back down beside her with a contented sigh. ‘Fine bread, Cassandra.’
Cassie swallows with difficulty. ‘Thanks.
Please
call me Cassie.’
‘If that’s what you’d prefer. Though it seems a shame to mutilate such a beautiful name,’ Larry says.
Fred guffaws. ‘Mutilate! Get a hold of yourself, mate!’
‘Cassie,’ Larry says, tipping his glass to her.
She smiles and sips her wine. Graham stares at her expression, sort of pleased and smug. Is she getting off on these smarmy looks?
‘So, you’re gonna be painting?’ Fred says. ‘Used to dabble in that line a bit meself.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Years back.’
‘The painting in the kitchen that caught your eye,’ Larry says.
‘That’s not you?’ Graham looks through the smoke at
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