House of Sticks by Peggy Frew Page A

up. ‘Can I give her a kiss?’
    â€˜Of course.’
    Grace put the backs of her knobbly fingers to her mouth and then gently lowered them to Jess’s cheek. ‘Beautiful,’ she said again, and then, still with her eyes on the baby, she added, ‘I met your husband’s business partner on Saturday.’
    â€˜Sorry?’ Bonnie looked at her.
    â€˜He is very nice.’ Grace curled her fingers around one of Jess’s feet. ‘I hope you are warm enough in this weather, my little one,’ she said. She turned to Bonnie. ‘What is his name again?’
    â€˜Do you mean Doug?’ said Bonnie. ‘The guy who’s been working for Pete? He’s not actually —’
    â€˜Yes, Doug, that’s right. The partner in the business. He came over, and we had a cup of tea. We had a long talk. He is very nice. He says they have a lot of work, very busy.’
    Bonnie felt that cold shrinking in her stomach. ‘Oh,’ she heard herself say.
    â€˜And it’s so nice that he is like a part of your family. Like an uncle to the children. That is nice.’
    Bonnie stared.
    Grace let go of Jess’s foot and leaned on her stick. ‘Good to see you, darling. I’m glad to hear they are busy. That is good.’
    She was feeding Jess on the living-room couch when she heard the back door.
    â€˜Bon?’ called Pete.
    â€˜In here.’
    He stuck his head in the door. ‘I’m going to get some Turkish pizza. Want some? Spinach pie?’
    â€˜Yes, please.’
    â€˜Won’t be long.’ He paused, glanced down at Jess, at Bonnie’s pulled-up top. ‘Doug’s in the kitchen.’
    â€˜Okay.’
    Jess finished, and Bonnie took her time changing her nappy and settling her to sleep, all the while listening out. She didn’t go into the kitchen until she heard Pete come back.
    Doug was sitting at the table with the newspaper. Pete had got some plates and was unwrapping the bundle of pizzas.
    â€˜Isn’t it nice and quiet without the two terrors around,’ said Doug.
    â€˜Yes, it is.’ She tried to look at him. Say something. Why can’t you just be straight with him? Ask about the empty bottles. Make it light — just say, ‘So did you have a bit of a party?’ She unfolded the paper from her spinach pie. Her hands were shaking.
    â€˜So where are they?’ said Doug. ‘Child care?’
    â€˜It’s a long day-care place, but they have an integrated kinder program.’ She cringed at how prim she sounded.
    â€˜Integrated program, eh?’ said Doug. He picked up a meat pizza and folded it in half. Looked at it for a moment, then back at her. ‘So do you reckon your kids’ll be grateful for all this — what do you call it? — all this hot-housing they’re getting?’
    Ignore it . She tried to take a bite of the pie, but it was too hot. Her eyes stung.
    Doug went on. ‘I mean, look at me: I got nothing. We played in the streets, or in the backyard if me gran and me mum weren’t using it. Or we went and worked for Dad at the shop, for twenty cents a day, on weekends and holidays. Sunday school, that was our extra-curricular activity .’ He said the words with an exaggerated posh accent, eyebrows jerking, grin cracking.
    â€˜Oh.’ Bonnie broke off a bit of pastry and blew on it. She snuck a glance at Pete, but he’d taken the paper and was reading it.
    â€˜Miss Spensley, in the church hall. She had a bung eye.’ Doug gave a tittering sort of laugh. ‘She’d stand there’ — he got up, one hand with the half-moon of pizza in it, the other thrust out in front of him, sweeping his pointed finger wildly back and forth and squinting up his face — ‘and she’d go, “Stop talking! You know who I mean! You know who I mean!”’
    â€˜Oh,’ went Bonnie again, and tried to smile.
    Doug sank back down in his