you tell me.'
'Actually, "OK" is about the
right word. There's nothing much to report.'
He nodded. 'Brendan's going to teach me to
fish,' he said.
'I didn't know you liked fishing.'
'I don't. I've never done it. But he says
one day we can go to the sea where a friend of his has this boat, and fish for
mackerel. He says you just haul them out of the water, one after the other, and
then cook them at once over a fire.'
'Sounds good.'
'He says even if it's raining, it's nice
to sit in a boat waiting for a tug on the line.'
'Have you seen him much, then?'
'A couple of times.'
'And you like him?'
'Yes. Can't imagine you with him, though.'
'Why not?'
He shrugged. 'He's not your style.'
'What's my style?'
'You're more of a cat person than a dog
person.'
'I don't have a clue what you're on
about.'
'He's more like a dog than a cat, don't
you reckon? Eager, wanting to be noticed. Cats are more independent and aloof
'Am I independent and aloof, then?'
'Not with me you're not. But with people
who you don't know so well.'
'What are you, then?'
'An otter,' he said immediately.
'You've really thought about this.'
'And Mum's a kangaroo.'
'Kangaroo?!'
'And she can't quite get used to the fact
we're no longer in her pouch. Except that I crawl in and out occasionally.'
'What's Dad?'
'Brendan once had a kind of breakdown as
well,' said Troy. He started threading alternating chunks of lamb and pepper on
to skewers.
'Did he? I didn't know that.'
'He said he never tells anyone. But he
told me because he wanted me to know that pain can be like a curse and like a
gift, and that it's possible to turn it into a gift.'
'He said that?'
'Yes. He's a bit of a hippy, really.'
'I'm going to have a beer, I think.'
'Dad's a duck.'
'I don't think he'd like that.'
'Ducks are all right. They're optimists.'
'And Kerry?'
'What about gazelle?'
'Has Brendan said anything to you about
me?' I tried to keep my voice casual.
'He said he hurt you.'
'Ah.'
'Did he?'
'No.'
'And he said you were too proud to admit
it.'
CHAPTER 5
'Are you all right?' asked Mum, as she
opened the door to me.
I was all right. But the way she kept
asking me, that sympathetic tone in her voice, it was like glass sandpaper
being rubbed on my skin. And because she kept asking me, I had become more and
more self-conscious about what to say in response. It was no longer enough just
to say 'fine' because that sounded defensive. I started to think of what a
person who was fine would say, what I could say that would genuinely convince
my mother that there was no awkwardness because in actual fact there wasn't —
on my side, at least.
'I'm absolutely fine,' I said. 'There's no
problem about any of this.'
Too much. My mother was immediately
sympathetic.
'You're looking lovely, Miranda,' she
said.
I was looking all right, but it had been a
delicate balance. There's the old cliché that when you're dumped — and of
course I hadn't actually been dumped, but that was neither here nor there — you
should make yourself look dazzling to show the person who has dumped you, or
who people think has dumped you, what they're missing. But because it's an old cliché
which everybody knows, then making a huge effort in those circumstances can end
up looking slightly pathetic. On the other hand, you can't go the other way and
give the impression that you've been lying in bed all day crying and drinking
cooking sherry. It should have been easy, but it wasn't, and the only way I
could decide what to wear was to think back to the last time I'd been out to
meet someone socially (not counting Kerry and Brendan) and wear what I'd worn
then. Unfortunately, that had been a hen night for an old friend and I'd worn a
skimpy black dress that was completely unsuitable for a Sunday lunch at my
parents'. But the time before that had been a casual night out at a bar and I'd
worn jeans and a white shirt and my new denim jacket with the suede collar, and
that would do
Heidi Hunter, Bad Boy Team