‘Auntie Katy, can you give us our bath?’
Nina’s youngest gives Katy an imploring smile. Her older sister tries a more forceful approach, tugging on Katy’s arm.
Katy stares from one to the other and uses her witch’s voice. ‘Ah, ha, ha, ha ... You filthy creatures ... I’m going to scrub, scrub, scrub until you’re clean ... Ah, ha, ha, ha.’
The little girls shriek and bolt towards the bathroom.
Philip, Nina’s husband, winces and gulps some wine. He is preparing dinner for the adults. He does most of the cooking. Nina, excellent at scientific measurements, is conveniently dyslexic when it comes to recipe measurements.
Katy follows the girls and ‘the witch’ game continues in the bathroom. She towers over them, washcloth in hand.
‘You are mine ... all mine!’ she cackles. ‘And I will not eat you until you’re squeaky clean.’
‘Don’t eat us,’ the youngest pleads. ‘Don’t eat us, please.’
‘Eat us, eat us,’ the older one challenges. ‘Go on, eat us.’
She holds out her arm for consumption. Katy smacks her lips. The youngest lets out an ear-piercing scream and Katy can imagine Philip’s grimace, followed by another slug of wine.
‘Can we keep it down in here?’ Nina comes in with towels and fresh pyjamas. ‘Daddy has a headache.’
‘She’s going to eat us! She’s going to eat us!’
Katy bares her teeth, the girls scramble to get away and a big splash of water hits her full in the face.
She laughs. ‘Well, there goes my mascara. Now I look more like a ghoul than a witch.’
‘What’s a ghoul?’
‘It’s a ghost.’
‘Can we play ghosts instead of witches?’
Nina takes charge. ‘Come on, bath time is over. Time to get out.’
‘We don’t want to get out. We want to stay in. We want to play witches.’
‘And ghosts.’
‘Out,’ Nina commands. It’s the same tone that pulls teenage students immediately into line; the girls don’t stand a chance. They stand up and meekly get out of the bath.
‘Great way to spend Saturday night, eh?’ Nina comments as she dries one child and Katy dries the other.
‘Well, it’s not as if I’ve had any other offers,’ Katy says wryly.
‘There’s always William,’ Nina points out.
Katy laughs and shakes her head. ‘Still not that desperate.’
‘Auntie Katy, can you read us a story?’
Katy cuddles up with the kids in bed while Nina goes to help Philip, or at least drink wine while she watches him do all the work.
’The Cat in the Hat, by Dr Seuss—’
‘Why is he a doctor? Can doctors write stories?’
‘Shush. The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day ...’
Katy pauses to drink in their rapt expressions. Their tousled, towel-dried hair. Their plump cheeks and sparkling eyes. The smell of them: soap and shampoo. This is what she wants more than anything in the world. To have children. To be a mother.
Why is it so impossible to achieve?
Katy is driving home when her phone rings. It’s unusually late for a phone call: 10.30 p.m. The number is unfamiliar.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi ... Is that Katy?’ The voice is male, and also unfamiliar.
‘Yes ... who is this?’
‘It’s Rickie. Tom’s friend.’
Now he calls. Late on Saturday night. Why couldn’t he have called earlier today? Or even yesterday?
‘Oh, yes. Hello, Rickie.’
‘Hello, Katy .’
There’s an awkward silence. She scrambles for something to say, but thankfully he fills the void.
‘I was wondering if you’d like to meet up .’ His voice is slightly slurred. Has he been drinking?
Stop being critical. He rang. See what happens.
She stops the car at a red light. ‘Sure. When were you thinking?’
‘Well, I’m free now and not that far from where you live . Grace said you’re in Neutral Bay?’
The light changes to green. Katy puts her foot too heavily on the accelerator and the wheels skid as she takes off.
‘You want to meet up now?’ she asks incredulously.
‘Yeah. I’m in this pub but I could drop around—’
She’s furious. So angry she can hardly concentrate on her driving. ‘What is this? Some kind of booty call?’
‘No, not at all. I just—’
‘Fuck off, Rickie. Don’t bother ringing me again.’
Her face is wet. She’s crying. Is this the best she can hope for on a Saturday night? Hijacking Nina’s family and getting a booty call on her way home? Is William, with his old-man clothes and prattle about the geography syllabus, the best she can hope for?
She pulls into the driveway of the apartment block a little too aggressively and her tyres protest once again.
Calm down. Rickie’s not worth it. You haven’t even met him. He’s nothing to you.
Her hand searches for the remote control to open the security gate leading to the car park in the basement. She locates a tissue and blows her nose while the gate rolls upwards, creaking and groaning. This time she makes sure she takes off slowly.
The car park is desolate and poorly lit: some of the light bulbs need replacing. Katy hurries to the stairwell, her heels clicking loudly against the concrete. Four flights to the first floor, her breath caught in her throat. She has an irrational fear of being trapped in the stairwell, the fire doors locking from the other side. Not being able to get out or call for help. There’s no phone reception in this part of the building.
The fire door bursts open when she pushes it. She proceeds down the hall: her apartment is the last one on the right-hand side. She knows all her neighbours by name. She knows the children the best because they’re the friendliest and always want to talk. Her door key is ready in her hand. She slips it into the lock and she’s inside within a matter of seconds.
She goes around the apartment turning on lights. Her heart rate is slightly up; she never enjoys the walk from the car park when it’s late at night. She pours herself a glass of wine and is on her way to the bedroom, to fetch her slippers, when she sees something on the hall floor. A piece of paper, right inside the door. Something that dropped out of her handbag as she was coming in? Or perhaps a note from Jim, her next-door neighbour, that she failed to spot? Wine glass in hand, she bends down to pick it up. Unfolds it awkwardly with one hand.
You need a boyfriend, Katy, and better security in your apartment block. Great idea to have a new yearbook, though. Hope you’re enjoying my contributions!