Trouble in Nirvana Read Online Free PDF Page B

and closed the door.
    Primrose stared after him, hands on hips. He hadn’t changed. Still hopelessly vague, expecting things to take care of themselves. Well he had to do a darn sight better than vague with his wife in her condition. Fancy relying on the word of that maniac Kurt! And Tarot cards? What else did they have to offer poor Nirupam? Good vibes? Crystals?
    “It’s a good thing I’m here,” she called after him.
    “Take the groceries to the kitchen,” he said through the closed door.
    Primrose picked up the bags and peered inside. “Do we all eat together?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who cooks?”
    “Usually Nirupam or Fern, but she’s away. Can’t you wait until I come out?”
    Nirupam? What’s wrong with the rest of them? Primrose strode to the newly cleaned kitchen, the plastic bags swinging in her hand. Why were they using plastic bags? Even she had Green reusable bags. As she stacked away, she investigated the food situation. The fridge housed a tub of margarine; left over something red with mould on it; a hunk of cheese; jars of jam, honey, peanut butter, yoghurt and various bottles of sauce and mustard. Nothing home made. She removed her beautifully iced tea from the freezer and swigged most of it in one gulp.
    The vegetable drawer revealed a lettuce, cucumbers and a couple of bendy carrots which she tossed out and replaced with the fresh batch. A big platter of tomatoes ripened on the shelf over the sink by the window. They were home grown. Maybe she could cobble together some sort of pasta thing with the tomatoes and onions.
    Canola oil hid in a cramped cupboard under the bench. It would do. Too much to hope they had olives and parmesan cheese. Primrose took out two of the saucepans she’d washed earlier and filled one with water. The old gas stove gamely resisted her efforts with a match, but she won in the end and set the pan on top to boil.
    The toilet flushed. A door opened. Closed. Footsteps sounded in the passage. Another door opened and closed. Checking on Nirupam. No wonder the poor girl was exhausted. They should be looking after her not the other way around.
    A heavy tread came from the back entrance. Kurt appeared, bare chested, in a clean pair of shorts, with a faded threadbare towel slung over his shoulder. His wild blonde hair and rust coloured beard hung damply around his red, shining face.
    “Hello,” he boomed as if Primrose were on the far side of a paddock.
    “Hi. Have you been swimming?”
    “Ja. In the creek. Natural. Wash in the creek the way natives do. Only trouble, not much water now. Just one pool with leeches in it. But they don’t bother me.”
    No doubt they knew better. If they survived the toxic run-off.
    He surveyed her dinner preparations. “You cook tonight? What you making?”
    “Pasta.”
    “You go on. Have you shut in the chooks?”
    Hadn’t given them a thought. “I’ll get this started first. Can I use those tomatoes? Home grown ones taste so much better.”
    A series of furrows appeared in his brow. “Fairbrudder brought them. Said he had too many. Hah!”
    “I thought you’d grown them.” Primrose turned to hide the smile. “What’s in your garden?”
    “Lettuce, cucumbers, capsicums, chillies, herbs and tomatoes.”
    “Are yours ripe?”
    “No.” He picked up her half drunk bottle of iced tea and drained it in one greedy swallow. “Bad year for tomatoes. The root stock was rubbish. Just got two, three little ones coming. Fairbrudder tells the supplier not to give me the best. See? What can you do?” He crushed the drink bottle in one massive fist and tossed it toward the bin in the corner. “Hard to grow vegetables here.”
    “But his grew.”
    “Because he bought up all the good stock first. He didn’t need so many. Just took everything to stop us.”
    “Would he do that?”
    “Sure. Cheaters never change. Fairbrudder is the wrong name for him. He’s Unfairbrudder.” He grinned at his witticism.
    “What’s your other name?”