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Briar Farley reminded Mary of a cartoon rabbit. She wore her hair in two short ponytails that flopped either side of her head and her front teeth were large. As the manager of the village kitchen, she was in charge of the Palms cafe food. She and Mary sat at one of the cafe tables to discuss the Christ- mas party menu.
“The biggest issue,” she told Mary as she poured them each tea, “is that the staff would need to be paid double time to work Christmas Day, since we are contracted by the vil- lage and not owned by them. That’s if you could persuade them to work in the first place.”
“With the budget being cut, I don’t think that’s going to be an option,” Mary sighed. “Is there any way you could prep food and I could do the cooking on the day?”
Briar thought it over for a bit. “I mean it’s doable, but it’s a big job.” She sipped her tea. “What we could do is make
you some nice salads. They’d only need dressing. And do a cold ham?” She passed Mary over the plate of shortbread and then took one for herself. “If you could handle the tur- keys, you could just have roast potatoes with it. We could probably prep those for you at no cost and we could whip up some pavlovas? They’re fairly cheap to make.” She bit into the biscuit and chewed. “You’d need to decorate them in the morning,” she said around a mouthful.
“I could do that,” Mary said. “What about the Christmas puddings? We’d need at least three.”
“Oooh, now they’re pricey.” Briar wrote down some more numbers on the pad beside her on the table. “That’s going to tip you right over budget. Could you make those? They can be done well in advance.”
“I guess.” Mary was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, but what else could she do?
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To say thank you for doing her shopping, Glenda had invited Mary for morning tea. She turned up at ten with some pars- ley from her garden, since there had been none at the shops when she’d gone down to get the long list of requirements and Gran had always said you never turn up without a gift for the hostess.
Glenda lived in one of the units at the edge of Pacific Palms, overlooking the estuary. Beside her front door was a large ornamental figure of a butler holding out a tray. The
doormat read ‘Welcome to the nut house’. Mary knocked, taking off her sandals as she waited.
“Well, hello there, doll,” someone said and she looked up to find a man standing there, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt with a Guns N’ Roses logo on it. He had several piercings in one ear and an almost mullet.
“That’ll be Mary,” she heard Glenda calling from inside. “Hello, love, come on in.” Glenda appeared, motioning to Mary. “This is Dallas, my gorgeous grandson. Dallas, this lovely young lady is Mary, our village angel that I was telling you about.”
“You didn’t mention what a stunner she is, Nan,” he said, giving Mary a cheeky wink.
“Oh, he’s incorrigible,” Glenda laughed. “Dallas, come and have a look at this jug, will you, and we’ll have a cuppa and a piece of my famous lemon slice.” She gave Dallas an affec- tionate pat on the arm. “It’s the oddest thing, Mary — every time I try to boil the jug, the kitchen lights turn on or off.”
“We might have to crack open a bottle of wine instead, Nan,” Dallas suggested. “Or shall we do that later, Mary? I could buy you a drink and you could show me around while I’m in town.”
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On her way back to the clubhouse, full of tea and lemon slice, Mary was surprised to discover Klaus leaning a long ladder up against one of the residents’ houses. He began to climb
up and she rushed over to stop him.
“Mr Nicols, wait.” She tried to keep hold of his arm and the ladder. “Whatever are you doing?”
“Checking the chimneys,” Klaus told her with an exasper- ated roll of his eyes.
“Well, I’m sure that’s not necessary. The maintenance crew check them annually in May to make sure they’re all good for winter. You really shouldn’t be up ladders at your age.”
“No good in winter,” he said, trying to take a step up the first rung. “It needs to be done now. I can see this one from my place and there’s a bird’s nest up there that needs to be cleared.”
“Well, I can’t have you up there,” Mary insisted. “Do you know how many elderly people fall off ladders?”
“Can’t be helped,” Klaus shrugged, taking another step up. “Oh, my goodness, your son will shoot me,” Mary mut- tered. “All right, all right, I’ll do it. Please, get down. You can
hold the ladder.”
Klaus stepped back down and Mary started tentative- ly up the ladder, the side of the house now seeming much taller than it had from the ground. She wasn’t that keen on heights, she remembered about halfway up.
“Dad? Mary? What on earth?” There was a large hand on her ankle and she looked down to see Bright peering up at her.
“My little helper is clearing the bird’s nest,” Klaus told
him.
“Like hell she is,” Bright muttered. “Mary, please get down.”
Mary started back down the ladder, her legs feeling a bit wobbly. Her foot slipped a little and she let out a little squeal. Another hand came up to steady her, resting pretty close to her bottom. “That’s it. You’re okay. Two more,” he said. The heat of his hand seared through her dress and her heart beat faster, but she wasn’t sure now that it was from fear.
“Thank you,” she said when she got to the ground, her cheeks flushed.
He took his hand away from where it was resting, very near her butt cheek.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“What about the nest?” his dad asked. “I’ll call maintenance,” Mary told him.
“No, no, they won’t get here for ages, it needs clearing.” Klaus was getting rather agitated, his cheeks rosy.
“Dad, calm down,” Bright said. “It’s not urgent.” “It is urgent!” Klaus shouted.
“Okay, fine, I’ll get it,” Bright said. “Would you mind hold- ing the ladder?” he asked Mary.
She tried not to watch his thighs and bottom as he as- cended, but it was hard. She was right there after all and she needed to look up to hold onto the ladder and do her job, surely.
He was quickly back down, faster than she could have
managed, carrying a small nest. In it were two chicks, beaks open, squawking for their mother. A robin started to chirp loudly from a nearby tōtara tree.
“All right, mama,” Bright called. “Relax.”
More gently than Mary would have thought him capable, he carried the baby birds over to the tree and reached up to place the nest in the V of a branch. He stepped back and they all watched as the mother bird circled nervously around until she eventually plucked up the courage to go near the nest, chirping away the whole time.
“She’s letting me know what’s what,” Klaus said, some- what cryptically. Bright gave his dad a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“How about we take this ladder back to where you found it then?”
Mary watched as he led his dad away, his face inscrutable. She tried not to think about his hand on her bottom and how nice it had felt.
CHAPTER 8
Hanging up lights causes the most Christmas-related injuries every year and three people die annually from testing with their tongue if a nine-volt battery works.