House of Sticks by Peggy Frew

he’s staying at this miserable place apparently, a bungalow in someone’s backyard, and it’s probably cold and no TV or whatever. And we weren’t around, and Doug’s an old friend of Pete’s and … It’s just, it’s really hard to put your finger on why it feels so weird.’
    â€˜But if it was someone else — like an old friend of yours, say, visiting from out of town, or with some other reason for needing to use your house — they’d have probably called you and checked it was okay to host a dinner there. And if they couldn’t get onto you then they would definitely say something as soon as they saw you again.’ Mel frowned. ‘But the thing is, there’s no real reason he’d need to use your house. He’s not staying with you guys. He’s just working out the back with Pete. The house is your territory.’
    Bonnie shifted Jess on her lap. ‘You know, that’s exactly what it feels like — like an invasion of my territory. But the thing is, another person could do all the same things he does — you know, hang around and have dinner, or a beer, or a cup of tea in the morning — but somehow when he does it it feels weird.’
    Mel looked at her watch. ‘I’d better go soon. I’ve got a client at eleven.’
    â€˜Thanks for talking about this.’ Bonnie felt in her bag for her purse. ‘I just — I feel like I’ve lost perspective. You know, the way my whole life’s sort of shrunk … It’s like it’s just me and Pete and the kids, this little world, and I don’t know, maybe I’ve lost the ability to recognise what’s normal behaviour. And, honestly, sometimes I don’t know how much of this stuff with Doug is him and how much it’s me.’
    â€˜I’d say most of it’s him.’ Mel put some coins down on the table and stood up. ‘That’s definitely not normal, using your house without permission or explanation. Drinking your beer without replacing it.’
    â€˜Well, he did have permission, sort of. Pete gave him the key.’
    â€˜So you think Doug took that to mean he had free use of the house, day and night?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜How much do you think they communicate?’
    â€˜Not much. I don’t get it. It’s like this weird super-casual relationship where nothing ever seems to be actually spoken about or agreed on.’
    â€˜Well, there’s your problem. I reckon anyway.’ Mel slipped the straps of her bag up her shoulder. ‘It’s all about communication.’ She reached to stroke Jess’s head. ‘And boundaries, with people like that.’
    Back at the house Bonnie pulled up behind Doug’s van. She sat looking at it, its yellow rust-spotted doors and bald tyres, and tried to rein in the surge of irritation, and something more, some deeper feeling that she didn’t really want to own up to — something childish she’d long been conditioned to bury. You’re lucky , she told herself. You’ve got so much — why can’t you be more generous? She sighed and got out of the car.
    â€˜Hello, darling.’
    She jumped and turned. It was Grace from down the road, all dressed up in her boxy green coat and thick beige stockings. She had her stick — the one the twins were so fascinated by, that branched out at the bottom into four little black stoppers. ‘Oh. Hi, Grace. How are you?’
    â€˜Ah, you know.’ The old woman gave a shrug, blinked behind her big, thick glasses. ‘I have a bad leg, but apart from that I am all right.’ She peered at Bonnie. ‘Where are the children?’
    â€˜The twins are at kinder today. And the baby’s just in the car there. Hold on, I’ll get her.’ She opened the back door and lifted Jess out.
    Grace bent to the baby. ‘Beautiful, beautiful.’ She straightened