Transformation of Minna Hargreaves, The (19 page)

I obediently explained. ‘She knew she was pregnant. She refused to do the programme at first because she knew what would happen. She changed her mind because of my brother and me. She did it to stop us wrecking our lives. She’s a hero.’

Well-known reporter: And what about your father?

Me: What about him?

(Laughter except from well-known, well pissed-off reporter who did the pseudo sympathy act again): What is your opinion of him now?

Me: (shrugging) He’s my dad.

Well-known and increasingly well pissed-off reporter: Yes, Minna, we know that. What the viewers want to know is how you see him now (fat, false smile at me). After all, you have been reasonably forthright in some of your conversations with him, shall we say?

Me: (smiling just as falsely) Well, shall I just say this — if he was here right now, he’d deck you for the way you’re hassling me.

(Laughter except from well-known etc.)

They kept asking and asking. Such dumb questions.

What was the hardest thing about the island?

Did I think I’d make it up with Leezie? (Aussie reporter with sharp nose and sharp clothes)

Did I want to get back with my boyfriend?

What did I want to do with my life?

What? How? Who? Why?

I’d had enough. I stood up and said to Cara, ‘That’s it. No more.’

She pointed to the door. ‘Wait for me in the green room.’

Questions flew at me even as I walked through the door.

I collapsed into a chair, exhausted. Chopping wood was easier than this. Digging bird baths, falling down cliffs — all easier.

I went to see Mum that night, after dinner at Addy’s place. She was sitting up but she’d been crying. I ran to her. ‘Mum! What’s happened?’ What else could go wrong?

But she smiled. ‘I’ve just watched you on the news. What you said about me — thank you, Minna.’

I plonked down on the edge of her bed. ‘Yeah, well — you’ll notice that I didn’t say I agreed with you.’ I shook my head. ‘Personally, I reckon you were crazy.’

She leaned back on the bundle of pillows. ‘There have been times when I’ve thought so too.’

We sat quiet for a bit. I didn’t know what was going through her head, but what was going through mine was a replay of the media frenzy, worry about how school
would be, and a question or two around the Lizzie/Seb drama.

A nurse came in. I gave Mum a hug and left.

She stayed three days in hospital and when she came out we rode together in a taxi back to our own house.

A small collection of photographers snapped us as we left.

We arrived home to a couple of reporters who shouted questions, which we ignored.

The phone calls started the second we got in the door. Yet another request for an interview. ‘No,’ I said and cut the connection. It went again. Same thing, different person. I changed the setting so that it went directly to answerphone. In half an hour, the in-box was full. Mum held out her hand. ‘Give the phone to me, Min — I’ll change the number — get an unlisted one.’

I’d thought that when Mum came home that my life would go back to normal — to how it had been before the island debacle. It didn’t. She still couldn’t do much more than lie about on a sofa or sit at a table to sketch. Food smells still made her nauseous. She still couldn’t eat much. But she was happier, she didn’t have that strained, guilty look any more and when her friends came over they laughed a lot and made jokes about the baby.

It was me who couldn’t settle. I didn’t feel at home, I wanted … I dunno — something different, somewhere different, but not the island. I did not miss the island. Except for the chooks. And the tuatara, the fairy prions, the … All right. Enough already. So I did miss some things about the damned place, but not the shower or
the toilet or the no hair-dryer, no phone, no internet policies.

I missed Dad.

Too bad, Min — get used to it. Yeah, he’d promised he’d be around, but he wouldn’t be. Lots of kids had absent fathers, Jax for one. I’d survive, but I didn’t have to like it.

I didn’t like the continued media attention either. Every time I showed my head out the door some idiot was waiting to shove a camera in my face.

Who would want to be a celebrity? But the answer popped ready-made into my head. Lizzie would.

Lizzie. I thought about her a lot. I found that doing the vacuuming, the dishes, the washing etc. etc. left the mind free for thinking. I thought about her and I thought about Seb. He was more of a puzzle than Lizzie was. I knew what I thought about her, no question. But Seb? Did I still love him? Would I get back with him? When I looked at him would my heart go into overdrive?

I talked about Lizzie to Jax and Addy, but I couldn’t talk about Seb. It was beyond good to have friends to talk to again.

‘Do you want to still be friends with her?’ I asked.

Addy shook her head. ‘I don’t trust her. Not now. She’s changed.’

Jax didn’t say anything, until Addy said, ‘Jax?’

‘She phoned me,’ Jax said. ‘And she came over.’

Addy stared at her. ‘You didn’t say anything!’

Jax looked at her hands, not at us. ‘She said she was sorry. It was like having the old Lizzie back. I miss her.’

We were quiet and it was a tense sort of quiet with
unsaid things pinging around the room.

I spoke first. ‘You stick with her if you want, Jax. Not me. I’ll never trust her again.’ But I missed her too — crazy, flamboyant Lizzie.

We looked at Addy. She shrugged. ‘Do what you want, Jax, but I’m with Min. Lizzie’s a two-faced bitch.’

They went home soon after that. I watched them go, and what I thought was that Lizzie was splitting us, choosing Jax because we all knew she had the softest heart and if any of us was going to crack it would be her.

I wondered what Lizzie would do when we ran into each other, because it was going to happen sooner or later.

But, wouldn’t you know it — I ran into Seb, not Lizzie.

‘Hiya, doll,’ he said, smiling that heartbreaker smile that answered my questions about my heart — it leapt straight into overdrive. He was in his car and he pulled up beside me, right where a camera-toting idiot flashed a shot off in my face.

‘Get in,’ Seb said, leaning over and opening the door.

And, god help me, I did.

We roared off leaving camera-guy eating our dust. Seb grinned at me, but didn’t say anything — just drove us down to the south coast and parked the car where we could watch the sea and where I could see the island with Dad on it if I knew where to look.

Seb still loved me. It was going to be all right. He would beg me to forgive him. He would tell me he was
sorry — that he loved me and he’d never stopped loving me.

He draped an arm across my shoulders. ‘Great to see you, doll.’ He leaned towards me to kiss me.

I flung up a hand and flinched back against the door. My dreams suddenly were as insubstantial as the foam on the sand. ‘You can’t do this, Seb! You can’t just roar into my life and pick me up like a shell on the bloody beach as if nothing has happened.’

He smiled into my eyes, stroked a strand of hair off my cheek. ‘Lizzie was a mistake, doll. Trust me, she didn’t mean anything.’

I jerked my head away from his hand. ‘Don’t bloody call me doll. And she meant something to me. You went off with my best friend.’

He folded his arms and leaned them on the steering wheel. ‘Yeah, I guess. Dumb.’ He shot me another smile. ‘I’m sorry, doll, er, Minna. Won’t happen again, I promise.’

No, it wouldn’t because, just like that, the magic was gone. He wasn’t my boyfriend and the sadness was that I was glad. I sighed. ‘Drive me back, Seb.’

This time I got a puzzled look but he didn’t say anything and we drove back without speaking. I got out. ‘See you round.’

He just lifted a hand and watched as I walked up the path. That was it. Over. It was so over.

I went into the house, yelled out to Mum but didn’t go into the lounge because she had friends over — Jocasta and Mary I’d guess, judging by the shrieks of laughter. Mum would have that kid a couple of months early if they weren’t careful.

I sat on my bed and I wanted to howl. I couldn’t be over Seb. How could that happen when I’d loved him so much, thought of him every waking second? I groaned and grabbed my pillow because I needed to hug something — well, somebody would have been better but there was no handy body around. What was it Dad had said? Something about how I would have got over it all much quicker if we hadn’t been shut away on the island.

I thumped the pillow. Bloody life.

Mum called me. ‘What?’ I snarled, but not where she could hear me. By the time I got to the lounge I was my usual charming self. ‘Hi, Mum. Hello Jocasta. Mary.’

Mary, who was an arty photographer, grinned at me. ‘Just wanted to tell you, Minna — your filming on the island — first class. You’ve got the eye, my girl.’

Jocasta laughed at my flabbergasted face. ‘I adore the chook sequences. They’re priceless, and such a brilliant idea.’

I glanced at Mum, and if I had to put a name to the expression on her face it would have to be proud. ‘Um,’ I said, ‘thanks. But where’s the series up to?’ We’d decided, Mum and I, not to watch any of it.

Jocasta passed me the muffins she’d brought with her. ‘The last episode showed Robert’s arrival.’ She shook her head. ‘That Cara would kill and eat her nearest and dearest if it meant good television.’

I glanced at Mum who pulled her mouth down and sighed. ‘Well, that should be the last of the pyrotechnics.’

Yeah, well, maybe. But to my mind there were a few
damp firecrackers waiting to dry out and explode, such as facing Lizzie, the hassling I would get when school started, the birth of the baby and the whole thing about where Dad would live or would he take off to some other island a million miles away. But with a bit of luck none of that would get on telly.

Dad and Noah came off the island for Christmas. Noah came home and Dad went to the Hargreaves grands’. Noah and I went there for dinner on Christmas Eve. Mum, of course, hadn’t been invited.

‘You are so lucky,’ I said to her. ‘And aren’t you going to tell me off for wearing clothes designed to send Gran bonkers?’

Mum grinned at me. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining, Min. And my silver lining is never having to see your grandmother again for as long as I live. You wear exactly what you like.’

‘Well! You’re singing a different tune these days!’ I said.

‘She’s a bitch swimming as fast as she can off the sinking ship,’ Mum said cheerfully and using the first mixed metaphor I’d heard for months. ‘Said some pretty nasty stuff on telly when the shit hit the fan, according to what Jocasta told me.’

Noah ambled into the room. ‘I’m betting Dad will be out of there before Boxing Day.’

We were arguing about it when Dad called from the doorway. ‘You two ready?’

That brought me down to earth. My father was a visitor in his own home, except that he wouldn’t even cross the threshold.

I picked up the pavlova I had crafted and we left with Mum’s words following us. ‘Have fun!’

Dad took the pav from me. ‘This is magnificent, Min. You’re a champion.’ He put it carefully in the car and then he gave me the hugest hug. ‘How are you? How’s everything going?’

God, that island had a lot to answer for — I couldn’t do anything now without wanting to burst into tears. ‘Okay,’ I sniffed. ‘It’s okay. Really, Dad.’

He grabbed my shoulders and took a long, hard look at me. ‘Hmm. All right. That’s good.’ He gave me a whack on the butt. ‘Let’s go then.’

About the only good thing Gran H had going for her was her cooking. We ate well, although I’d bet that all she could taste was vinegar and sawdust judging by the expression on her face. I chatted to Grandad and ignored her because I was not going to wreck a sumptuous meal of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, gravy and roast spuds — although why she chose to cook that on a summer evening only she would know.

We all made appropriately grateful comments.

Then it was time for dessert. I brought in the pav. It was a damned fine one and I wasn’t the only one to think so. I gave Grandad a slice double the size Gran would have given him. He winked at me.

There was an appreciative silence while we ate except for Gran saying to Noah, ‘Really, Noah — you’re back in civilisation now. Kindly do not lick your plate.’

Grandad smacked his lips and said, ‘That was delicious, Minna. You’re a champion.’

Dad said, ‘Fantastic, Min.’

Noah said, ‘Almost as good as the fish.’

We all looked at Gran H. She looked like she’d swallowed sour lemons and then came out with, ‘You’ve surprised me, Minna, I have to admit. There must be more of your father in you than I thought.’

I repeated that to Mum when we got home. She laughed for a week.

Christmas Day was icky. We opened the presents in the morning but Dad wasn’t there and there weren’t any from him.

Mum gave me the drawing she’d done of me digging the bird bath. She’d done it in charcoal from that first sketch. I hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum. I love it.’

I gave her a shawl in brilliant, jewelled colours, which I’d found in town one day with the girls. ‘I don’t know what you’ll do with it,’ I said, ‘but it kind of looked like you.’

She held it against her face. ‘It’s gorgeous, Min. I shall toss it around my shoulders and be a mad artist.’

Noah gave me a tiny fish he’d carved from a piece of wood. He laughed when he opened my present to him. A silver fish on a chain to wear around his neck.

We went to the Aveson grands’ for lunch and nobody mentioned Dad. It was as if he’d died. Gramps was doing fine with a brand new hip, but there was a For Sale sign outside their house.

Dad came to collect us mid-afternoon. He drove us to a motel. ‘Told you,’ said Noah.

Dad shook his head. ‘She makes me remember all over again why I left home at seventeen.’

But I think a large chunk of the reason for the motel
was because he wanted to talk to us — me in particular.

He sat on the one kitchen chair, Noah grabbed the armchair and I lounged on the bed. ‘Right, kids. I’ve come to a decision.’

This, I felt, would not be good news. I didn’t say anything and neither did Noah.

Dad did the deep breath — another bad sign. ‘You both know that our marriage is finished?’

‘Yeah,’ said Noah. ‘But only because we’re rocket scientists.’

Dad got a tad snippy at that. ‘It wasn’t the easiest of situations, Noah.’

I managed not to say
and whose fault was that?
I must be growing up. But by the look on Dad’s face he heard what I didn’t say.

‘Yes. Well. That’s beside the point. The point is this. Noah, you and I will go back to the island until school starts, and then we’ll both come back.’

‘For good?’ I asked. This, I was having difficulty believing.

Dad nodded. ‘Yes. For good.’ He looked at me. ‘It’s not fair leaving you to cope with everything, Min.’ I sat up and opened my mouth but he grinned at me. ‘Oh, I know you can handle it all — no question. It’s just that I don’t think you
should
have to handle it.’

This was not what I had expected. I shook my head and tried to take in what else he was saying.

‘I’m going to look for a house near ours. Noah, you will spend every weekend with me. And you too, Min, if you want.’

I should have known it was too good to be true.
They could go off and do boy stuff. I’d be like an extra leg they didn’t know what to do with. I stared at my feet. It would be good to have Dad back in the same city. It would be. I just wouldn’t see that much of him.

He spoke again. ‘And every Wednesday, Min, you and I will meet at my house at four o’clock. We’ll go to the supermarket and we’ll buy food. Then we’ll cook it.’