Astrid sat at her kitchen table listening to the ticking of the clock. It was just gone nine, too early for bed; she’d only toss and turn and think. Her thoughts seemed more tortuous and inescapable when she was in her bed waiting for sleep. Out here, the safety of her kitchen offered a better view of her circumstances.
She got up and looked out the window. Her neighbour’s house was lit up like Christmas; the house lights were often aglow all night now that Arnold was cleaning up.
Astrid didn’t like what she saw. Arnold was doing the unthinkable — clearing out his junk. She knew his motive. He was trying to get Gabriel to bring his pregnant girlfriend to live in his house. She was losing the young family she had unofficially adopted.
Each tick of the clock reminded her of how lonely she was, especially now with Helen and Vivian gone. She had tried to patch things up with Helen at the launch, wanted to offer her accounting skills, but Helen had seemed distracted, so she held back. No doubt one of her new literary friends was keeping the books.
She looked up at the clock: nine-fifteen. She stretched her arms in front of her. How was she to keep herself amused? She’d already been to the casino that day, and lost. She entertained other possibilities; all were equally dull.
Then it occurred to her to go and spy on Arnold. It was a warm night, a cloudless sky with a fine dash of stars. Astrid felt happy with her decision to take this short walk. An adventure. But outside was even quieter than her kitchen. Even the houses that lined the street seemed to have turned in for the night; they stood in darkness, apparently unaware to the goings-on of their dissident neighbour.
Approaching Arnold’s house she sought cover behind the wall of telephone directories, the one she had always despised, but was now grateful for as she made her way along it to the front gate.
The radio was on and Astrid could hear the sound of a lively tune. She watched in astonishment as Arnold danced a jig to it while holding a box. She smiled momentarily at this antic, knowing he would be mortified if he knew he was being watched. Then she slumped down and leaned heavily against the wall. The house was a hive of activity, with Arnold and Gabriel carrying out boxes, putting some on the front verandah, others onto the trestle tables lining the driveway where they were opened and emptied.
She felt wretched on seeing father and son working together. Even Gabriel was avoiding her. She wanted to talk to him about the baby, but every time she saw him, he was vanishing around a corner. Once again she was excluded from that special world where parent and child moved as one with barely a word spoken. Sharing … sharing the same genes, the same history, and now this — working towards a better future, together.
Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled as she walked back to her empty house. Back to the kitchen and the ticking clock, each tick now sounding like a clang; clanging off the seconds that made up her empty life.