Odd Socks by Ilsa Evans Page B

expectantly at the mugs on the counter, so I fish out the teabags and pass the black tea over to Matt. Then I add sugar and milk to the other and pass that over as well with instructions to please use the coasters on the coffee table. They thank me profusely and wander back into the lounge-room, no doubt to lean on the machinery again. I put some coffee in the plunger, fill it with hot water and let it sit while I call up a mental picture of Sherry’s gorgeous face and examine each of her features in turn. The phone rings once more just as I reach her shell-like little ears and I hesitate before answering it, trying to decide whether it’s Fergus again or not. Only one way to find out, I suppose.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Congratulations, Grandma!’ says Cam warmly. ‘You didn’t tell me about the baby yesterday!’
    â€˜Ho, ho, ho,’ I reply with relief, ‘if it isn’t Santa’s little helper!’
    â€˜Very funny.’
    â€˜Besides, it was a bit hard to tell you anything yesterday!’ I continue cheerfully. ‘You were much too busy decking the halls and jingling the bells!’
    â€˜Okay, okay. You’ve had your fun now, so let’s drop it.’
    â€˜What’s the matter? Won’t anybody join in your reindeer games?’
    â€˜I said drop it!’
    â€˜You wish! I’m only getting started!’
    â€˜I’ll hang up,’ threatens Cam. ‘I swear to god, I’ll hang up if you say one more word about yesterday.’
    â€˜There’s no satisfying you, is there?’ I reply brightly. ‘Firstyou have a go at me for not telling you about the baby and now you say you’ll hang up if I talk about yesterday at all!’
    â€˜You know what I mean,’ says Cam darkly. ‘Now, tell me about the baby or else.’
    â€˜All right,’ I laugh in resignation. ‘Well, she’s very cute.’
    â€˜Come on! Even you can do better than that!’
    â€˜Well, she’s small, red, wrinkled and cute. What more do you want?’
    â€˜A lot more. But I see I’ll have to visit Bronte to find out. Now, I gather you’ve taken a few days off?’
    â€˜I’ve taken the whole week. I decided I deserve it.’
    â€˜Great! Because I’m on semester break, so we’ll be able to do some stuff. Starting with lunch today.’
    â€˜Okay,’ I reply with enthusiasm. ‘To celebrate the baby?’
    â€˜Yes – that, of course, and also . . . guess who rang me last night?’
    â€˜Um, Mrs Claus? And I’m betting she was really peeved, as well.’
    â€˜I’ll hang up, I will!’ says Cam seriously. ‘And you can jam your lunch –’
    â€˜Now, now!’ I say, with mock horror. ‘Naughty girls don’t get what they want from Santa, you know. No sirree. You’ll be stuffing stockings all on your lonesome, and –’
    She hangs up.
TUESDAY
1233 hrs
    I park my Barina neatly behind Cam’s old Holden and stretch happily. I’m really looking forward to this lunch. Apart from the fact that Cam can’t hang up on me if we’re face-to-face,she’s also invited an old friend we haven’t seen for over a year. We all used to work together at the Ferntree Gully Library before Cam decided to turn her life upside down, go back to university and start studying again, while Joanne flitted off overseas to some retreat in an effort to find herself and/or inner peace and contentment on some level. It should be very interesting to see if she has succeeded because Joanne has never been known for inner peace and contentment on any level. Before she left she was riddled with insecurities, had a temper to match her flaming red hair, and didn’t believe in retreating – only attacking.
    I open the car door and step out, straight onto the toe of a deserted Rollerblade that flicks up and hits me in the shin with one of its wheels. I curse