Penny was back to Tupperware containers of last night’s leftovers for lunch, to girls wearing too much make-up being bitchy on Facebook to other girls wearing too much make-up. She knew this because Chiffany Taylor—possibly a mutilation of ‘Tiffany’ and possibly the worst name Penny had ever heard—came to her in tears after class, accusing Kaylene Knight of bullying her. Penny knew enough about Department of Education bullying protocols to know it was one for the headmaster, so she led a weeping Chiffany to his office.
Every night she came home to a casserole or a stew, something tasty Marie had prepared. She had to admit it was pleasant not having to cook, when her feet were tired, her voice exhausted from shouting—or from the effort of trying not to shout—worn out from looking into the vacant eyes of adolescents, which was like looking into the eyes of goats. Did any of them care about fashioning life into some semblance of order, of trying to shape whatever small gifts they had into something worthwhile? She could cry with frustration, or else fall too enthusiastically upon a student who showed the slightest promise or interest. There was one boy in his final year of school whom she secretly adored: Thomas Bellini, known as ‘Merlin’ for his fascination with the dark arts of the occult and for painting impenetrable, gloomy pictures of deceased maidens. He had talent, spark, and read everything she gave him; his hopes were pinned on getting into her old art college, which was now part of Griffith University. She wanted him to succeed where she had failed, while at the same time a begrudging part of her heart wanted it to be as impossible for him as it had been for her.
Penny and Marie had come no closer to resolving the question of where Marie would live permanently. The subject of the downstairs conversion into a granny flat swiftly became a no-go zone, since Penny made it clear whenever the subject was raised that she was deaf to it, at least for now. Might Penny have the upper hand at last? Might the power dynamic that had been the mainstay of Penny’s life be changing? Perhaps—could it be?—Marie finally understood that she needed Penny more than Penny needed her? For Marie was all peace and love, getting stronger and stronger, her physical health improving by the day. Soon, the lump and the spider bite were forgotten and she discarded her walking frame altogether, taking long, refreshing walks around the lake. She was growing younger instead of older! She was like some weird species of super being, rising at dawn to eat fresh babies. Her mother was a freak, no doubt about it, but she was also a freak living in the spare bedroom of her house.
Gordie joined Marie on her walks around the lake, so Penny was spared that particular pleasure. Indeed, Gordie was such a regular visitor that he represented the first crack in the wall she had built around the idea of her mother living with her permanently; Gordie offered a reprieve. ‘Is your mother home?’ he asked, to which she started answering, ‘Where else would she be?’ Marie found Gordie charming, excellent company, and was reassured to know that he owned not only his own house at The Landing but two rental properties as well. With his financial stability assured, Marie could relax, knowing he was not after her money. What was money worth, anyway, at the end of life? They agreed they had done everything they wanted to do, seen everything they wanted to see.
‘Although I wouldn’t mind going back to Paris once more,’ said Marie.
‘Oh, Paris,’ said Gordie. ‘It’s more like a mythical place than an actual place, don’t you think?’
‘Bien sûr,’ said Marie.
Penny often came home from work to find them having a glass of pastis on the front veranda, conversing in French. Gordie’s accent was execrable, worse than hers.
Meanwhile, Penny continued to work on her secret project in Scarlett’s old bedroom. The light was good, as if it bounced shining all the way up from the lake, trembling and rippling. She was drawing Scarlett’s babies, sketching them as they rolled on the grass, nipping each other like puppies, a tangle of limbs. Hippy’s small white milk teeth were evenly placed in his head, and proving to be excellent new weapons. In the bright room she was making something of the drawings. She did not know what.