together. Tell me you love me
.
I cried. But I vowed again that no way was I ever going to film myself crying and being sorry for myself.
By late afternoon I was yearning for real food as well as for company. Maybe Mum …
I took myself off to her room to check. Nope. She wasn’t going to be chatting or cooking any time soon.
‘Mum, I’m hungry. I need real food. What can we have for dinner?’
‘Get something out of the freezer.’
I checked the basin by her bed. She hadn’t been sick again. Did that mean she was getting better? Not if how she looked was anything to go by.
But maybe she’d be able to tell me how to cook whatever chunk of raw flesh I hauled out of the freezer.
I collected the camera, ran down the path — wind still roaring overhead — braved the chorus of chicken yells and opened the freezer doors. Well now, a chicken would seem appropriate. There was a shelf full of them. I took one and it was soft, soggy and unattractive.
I may not know much about being a domestic goddess but I do know when a freezer isn’t working. This one wasn’t. It held our entire supply of meat for the year and the whole caboodle was slowly rotting.
The chicken felt cold. It would be okay to eat. Probably.
Mum turned faintly green when I asked her how tocook it, but she said, ‘Put it in the biggest pot. Cover it with water. Get it simmering and then throw in any vegetables you can find. Won’t be great but you’ll be able to eat it.’
Dad came in when darkness fell. I’d say he’d been chopping and hacking things all day by the look of him. He sat down at the table, just waved a hand at me and didn’t say anything such as
you brilliant kind and clever girl what would I do without you thank you thank you thank you.
‘Dad,’ I said, ‘just because we’re on an island doesn’t mean you can leave off the deodorant. And may I suggest you have a wash before dinner?’
He grinned and ambled off to have a shower.
I cheered up. Perhaps a day of hacking and chopping had got rid of some of the pissed-ness about Mum.
Not so.
‘Mum’s a bit better,’ I said when he reappeared.
‘Min — what your mother does or feels is of no interest to me whatsoever.’
All right, sunshine — try this one then. ‘The freezer isn’t working.’
He shot out of the house. Came back half an hour later.
‘Fix it?’ I asked.
He dipped a spoon into the concoction on the stove. ‘Needs salt. No. It’s unfixable. The solar panel is smashed — wind must’ve ripped it off the roof. So no freezer and no washing machine.’ He didn’t sound particularly worried. ‘Why didn’t you feed the chooks and where’s Noah?’
I ignored that. ‘But Dad — all our meat! We won’t have any.’
He swished a hand at me. ‘We’ll talk about that when Noah turns up.’ He looked around as if he expected Noah to appear from under the table. ‘The chooks, Min — why didn’t you feed them?’
‘What with? Why me? And how?’ I glared at him. ‘How come it’s my job all of a sudden to feed everything and everybody?’ I gave a brief thought to the cameras, but too bloody bad. I kept yelling. ‘Is there anything else on this crap island that you’ve forgotten to tell me to feed so you can yell at me when it squawks?’ I concentrated on making a whirlpool in the pot to keep the tears from getting out and down my face.
I heard him take in a huge breath. ‘Sorry, Min. Sorry. Things are a bit — well, you know how they are.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Have you any idea where Noah might be?’
I turned round to stare him in the eye. ‘He’ll be wherever it is that he’s hidden his dope. He’ll be smoking up a storm, which probably isn’t such a dumb thing to do right now.’
Dad barked out a laugh. ‘Don’t be crass, Min.’
I shrugged. ‘Go and look for him — and open your eyes, Dad! How come you and Mum … how come neither of you have even noticed he’s been a stoner for the last few
.
I cried. But I vowed again that no way was I ever going to film myself crying and being sorry for myself.
By late afternoon I was yearning for real food as well as for company. Maybe Mum …
I took myself off to her room to check. Nope. She wasn’t going to be chatting or cooking any time soon.
‘Mum, I’m hungry. I need real food. What can we have for dinner?’
‘Get something out of the freezer.’
I checked the basin by her bed. She hadn’t been sick again. Did that mean she was getting better? Not if how she looked was anything to go by.
But maybe she’d be able to tell me how to cook whatever chunk of raw flesh I hauled out of the freezer.
I collected the camera, ran down the path — wind still roaring overhead — braved the chorus of chicken yells and opened the freezer doors. Well now, a chicken would seem appropriate. There was a shelf full of them. I took one and it was soft, soggy and unattractive.
I may not know much about being a domestic goddess but I do know when a freezer isn’t working. This one wasn’t. It held our entire supply of meat for the year and the whole caboodle was slowly rotting.
The chicken felt cold. It would be okay to eat. Probably.
Mum turned faintly green when I asked her how tocook it, but she said, ‘Put it in the biggest pot. Cover it with water. Get it simmering and then throw in any vegetables you can find. Won’t be great but you’ll be able to eat it.’
Dad came in when darkness fell. I’d say he’d been chopping and hacking things all day by the look of him. He sat down at the table, just waved a hand at me and didn’t say anything such as
you brilliant kind and clever girl what would I do without you thank you thank you thank you.
‘Dad,’ I said, ‘just because we’re on an island doesn’t mean you can leave off the deodorant. And may I suggest you have a wash before dinner?’
He grinned and ambled off to have a shower.
I cheered up. Perhaps a day of hacking and chopping had got rid of some of the pissed-ness about Mum.
Not so.
‘Mum’s a bit better,’ I said when he reappeared.
‘Min — what your mother does or feels is of no interest to me whatsoever.’
All right, sunshine — try this one then. ‘The freezer isn’t working.’
He shot out of the house. Came back half an hour later.
‘Fix it?’ I asked.
He dipped a spoon into the concoction on the stove. ‘Needs salt. No. It’s unfixable. The solar panel is smashed — wind must’ve ripped it off the roof. So no freezer and no washing machine.’ He didn’t sound particularly worried. ‘Why didn’t you feed the chooks and where’s Noah?’
I ignored that. ‘But Dad — all our meat! We won’t have any.’
He swished a hand at me. ‘We’ll talk about that when Noah turns up.’ He looked around as if he expected Noah to appear from under the table. ‘The chooks, Min — why didn’t you feed them?’
‘What with? Why me? And how?’ I glared at him. ‘How come it’s my job all of a sudden to feed everything and everybody?’ I gave a brief thought to the cameras, but too bloody bad. I kept yelling. ‘Is there anything else on this crap island that you’ve forgotten to tell me to feed so you can yell at me when it squawks?’ I concentrated on making a whirlpool in the pot to keep the tears from getting out and down my face.
I heard him take in a huge breath. ‘Sorry, Min. Sorry. Things are a bit — well, you know how they are.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Have you any idea where Noah might be?’
I turned round to stare him in the eye. ‘He’ll be wherever it is that he’s hidden his dope. He’ll be smoking up a storm, which probably isn’t such a dumb thing to do right now.’
Dad barked out a laugh. ‘Don’t be crass, Min.’
I shrugged. ‘Go and look for him — and open your eyes, Dad! How come you and Mum … how come neither of you have even noticed he’s been a stoner for the last few
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