trying! The Victorian coast. I don’t expect you to understand, but things were different. We squatted. That means we didn’t pay rent. It was illegal, but we didn’t care. But now I’m an officer of the law – I enforce the law. Those days were okay, in part, but they could work against me, especially for my chances of getting on the Bench, and we don’t want anything to jeopardise that. I’ve worked too hard, and I have enough against me already.’
Olive nodded. The Bench and sitting on it was all Mog wanted. Olive knew that ‘certain people’ were conservative, and that ‘certain people’ looked down on single mothers, even if those single mothers were like Mog and darn good at their jobs.
‘Although, if William’s still there, he’s probably got a good case for adverse possession.’ Mog laughed.
‘What’s adverse possession?’ Olive was relieved that Mog’s mood had passed.
‘It means that you inhabit a property for such a long period of time that it becomes yours. Like those people in the Clare Renner library. They squatted in the basement with padlocks for so many years that the Council had to pass them the title papers. They stayed put. But really, Ol, forget it all. It’s easier to sit on these things, bury them.’
‘Bury what? I don’t even know what he does.’ Olive picked at a piece of fluff through a cigarette burn in the sofa arm.
‘Olive, please don’t pick. I left William and went back to law because I realised that I deserved better; that we deserved much better. Our life is good. You have an excellent role model and everything you possibly need. Now please, can we forget him? He wasn’t worth the angst then and he certainly isn’t worth it now. The only decent thing he did in his entire life was produce – no, rather, contribute to the production of – you.’ Mog kissed Olive’s soft blonde down. ‘And that is priceless.’
Mog went back to the post. Olive slipped out of her chair and went to join Pip. They headed to Olive’s room and closed the door.
‘Man, I see what you mean. She may have been trying to look calm, but she was so worked up, her neck was stringy.’ Pip’s face was flushed and her eyes shone.
‘She’s okay,’ said Olive. ‘She does a good job. We get by.’
‘But we didn’t get many clues.’
‘I think we should forget it, Pip. It’s not worth making Mog angry.’
‘Forget it? Are you mad? We know this much.’ Pip took out a notebook and started to write.
Clues
WilliamPetersMustardSeed
• Coast – Victoria
• Adverse possession
• Possibly likes mustard
• Not worth it
‘There must be something else,’ said Pip. ‘Clothing? Letters?’
‘I swear, there’s nothing. It’s like he never existed. She’s deleted him, and I want to, too.’
Pip stared at her.
‘Can you just leave it? It doesn’t seem right.’ Olive ripped the clue list out of the notebook.
‘Sure.’ Pip glared at Olive and left the room.
14
History-shuffle
Olive stalked to the kitchen and pulled out her paints. She liked to paint whenever she felt tight, and she felt tight now. Even the smell of the watercolour, the thickness of the paper, was enough to calm her. Olive ran the bristles of a brush along her fingers. It may have been bad for the fibres, but Olive loved the way the tips felt like cats’ tails (without the fleas).
Mog was in her study working. Every so often, Olive could hear her turn the page of a document. Pip’s whereabouts was anyone’s guess. Olive sat at the kitchen table and painted until the hard wood of the chair made her legs prickle.
As much as Olive wanted to delete WilliamPeters MustardSeed, she couldn’t. It was a funny thing, to imagine a father. Her missing father wasn’t like a missing person, because there was no photograph. He was more like the chalk outline of a body on the pavement in a New York murder; a gap Olive needed to fill, but whose insides were still unknown. A gap that could perhaps only be
Olive nodded. The Bench and sitting on it was all Mog wanted. Olive knew that ‘certain people’ were conservative, and that ‘certain people’ looked down on single mothers, even if those single mothers were like Mog and darn good at their jobs.
‘Although, if William’s still there, he’s probably got a good case for adverse possession.’ Mog laughed.
‘What’s adverse possession?’ Olive was relieved that Mog’s mood had passed.
‘It means that you inhabit a property for such a long period of time that it becomes yours. Like those people in the Clare Renner library. They squatted in the basement with padlocks for so many years that the Council had to pass them the title papers. They stayed put. But really, Ol, forget it all. It’s easier to sit on these things, bury them.’
‘Bury what? I don’t even know what he does.’ Olive picked at a piece of fluff through a cigarette burn in the sofa arm.
‘Olive, please don’t pick. I left William and went back to law because I realised that I deserved better; that we deserved much better. Our life is good. You have an excellent role model and everything you possibly need. Now please, can we forget him? He wasn’t worth the angst then and he certainly isn’t worth it now. The only decent thing he did in his entire life was produce – no, rather, contribute to the production of – you.’ Mog kissed Olive’s soft blonde down. ‘And that is priceless.’
Mog went back to the post. Olive slipped out of her chair and went to join Pip. They headed to Olive’s room and closed the door.
‘Man, I see what you mean. She may have been trying to look calm, but she was so worked up, her neck was stringy.’ Pip’s face was flushed and her eyes shone.
‘She’s okay,’ said Olive. ‘She does a good job. We get by.’
‘But we didn’t get many clues.’
‘I think we should forget it, Pip. It’s not worth making Mog angry.’
‘Forget it? Are you mad? We know this much.’ Pip took out a notebook and started to write.
Clues
WilliamPetersMustardSeed
• Coast – Victoria
• Adverse possession
• Possibly likes mustard
• Not worth it
‘There must be something else,’ said Pip. ‘Clothing? Letters?’
‘I swear, there’s nothing. It’s like he never existed. She’s deleted him, and I want to, too.’
Pip stared at her.
‘Can you just leave it? It doesn’t seem right.’ Olive ripped the clue list out of the notebook.
‘Sure.’ Pip glared at Olive and left the room.
14
History-shuffle
Olive stalked to the kitchen and pulled out her paints. She liked to paint whenever she felt tight, and she felt tight now. Even the smell of the watercolour, the thickness of the paper, was enough to calm her. Olive ran the bristles of a brush along her fingers. It may have been bad for the fibres, but Olive loved the way the tips felt like cats’ tails (without the fleas).
Mog was in her study working. Every so often, Olive could hear her turn the page of a document. Pip’s whereabouts was anyone’s guess. Olive sat at the kitchen table and painted until the hard wood of the chair made her legs prickle.
As much as Olive wanted to delete WilliamPeters MustardSeed, she couldn’t. It was a funny thing, to imagine a father. Her missing father wasn’t like a missing person, because there was no photograph. He was more like the chalk outline of a body on the pavement in a New York murder; a gap Olive needed to fill, but whose insides were still unknown. A gap that could perhaps only be
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