Lessons From Ducks (20 page)

“There should be. As well as please and thank you, common courteous phrases such as ‘how are you’ have gone out of fashion.”

“You sound like my granddad.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, he’s always going on about the good old days as well.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

“Yeah, he likes to think so. But he’s also like, eighty.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, aren’t you like, a bit young to be so cynical?”

“You know what cynical means?”

Oscar gave her a wounded look. “Please. I’m eight, not four.”

Anna hid a smirk. “Sorry. Do you have any homework?”

“Some maths, unfortunately.”

“Why don’t you pop up at the table and get started on it while I cook. That way you don’t have to worry about it when you get home.”

Oscar pulled a face. “I guess so.” Reluctantly he left Buddy on the floor and fetched his school bag from where he had dropped it on his way in. He chewed the end of his pencil studiously for five minutes, occasionally stopping to look at the roof in concentration, or use his fingers as a calculator.

“I hate maths,” he finally admitted, stalling. “Are you any good at it Anna?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t you work in a bank?”

She nodded. “Yes but I have a flash calculator, and a computer. It does everything for me.”

“You’re lucky.”

He bent his head to his book again. “Do you have a favourite number?” he asked a minute later.

“No.”

Oblivious to the upset he had caused with one simple question, Oscar blithely carried on talking.

Anna didn’t hear him. She had stopped stirring and stood with her eyes squeezed shut.

She didn’t have a favourite number. But she had one she hated.

Eighteen.

Eighteen hours. The memory of each of them etched into her memory. Eighteen hours that had altered the course of her life. 

No, she shook herself. Come back, don’t go down that path. She finished whipping up a quick chicken stir fry, with fried egg and noodles.

“Dinner’s up,” she placed the bowls on the table. “Eat it while it’s hot.”

With obvious relief Oscar shoved his books back into his bag and they were just about to tuck in when there was a knock on the door.

“Dad’s here,” said Oscar. He looked at her, fork half way to his mouth, unsure whether he should still eat or not.

“Eat.” Anna got up to answer the door. “You’re late,” she told Matt.

“Am I?” Matt made a show of checking his watch. “Sorry. Time got away on me.”

Anna checked over her shoulder to make sure Oscar’s attention was on his dinner before lowering her voice. “You know I don’t mind Oscar coming over to see Buddy,” she said. “But I think you’re starting to take advantage.”

Matt froze, one foot through the door.

“You don’t even check to see whether I’m home before you let him come over, what if I had plans and he arrived to find an empty house?”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Have plans?”

“When?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who mentioned them.”

Anna shook her head, frustrated. “My point is that I seem to have become an unpaid babysitter for your son.”

Matt pulled out his wallet and opened it. “What’s the going rate these days?”

“The going rate for what?”

“Babysitters, isn’t that the point you’re making? Aren’t we having the same conversation here?”

“No,” she said frustrated. “You’re missing the point entirely.”

“Do you think you could get to it a little faster?”

Anna sighed and stepped aside to let him in. “Forget it.”

He could tell he’d pushed her too far. “Look, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll check ahead in future, and pick him up on time. Ok?”

“Thank you, yes. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hey mate,” Matt crossed the room and bent to kiss his son’s head in greeting. Anna was reminded of her earlier compulsion to do the same thing. “Holy mother of Mary, what is that divine smell?” Matt sniffed the air and peered into his son’s dinner bowel.

Anna took the hint.

“Oh go on then,” she sighed, “pull up a chair.”

Chapter twenty six

“Anna, come in,” Barry Ferguson extended his hand. Anna shook it – she never knew whether to go firm or limp in these situations so settled for somewhere in the middle – then surreptitiously wiped her hand down her jeans leg. His hand was damp and clammy and she knew she would spend the entire meeting now wanting to wash her own.

She followed him into the boardroom and took a seat on the left side of the table. She would have preferred the right which was closer to the door therefore a quicker escape route, but that side was already taken by the imposing bulk of Harold, the regional HR manager, and another man who Anna had never seen before.

“Anna, thank you for coming in today. You know Harold of course –”

Anna nodded and smiled at Harold, who nodded and smiled back.

“- and this is Peter Bentley from head office.”

Anna nodded and smiled. Peter nodded and smiled back.

“I’ll get straight to the point Anna,” said Barry.

Anna held her breath. This was it. The guillotine blade was about to fall on her banking career, such as it was. She had never been fired; had no idea how to respond. Should she cry? Beg for forgiveness? Or shake her fist and storm out creating a scene, vowing revenge. She quite liked the sound of that last one. It was a long time since anything vaguely exciting had happened in the branch. She imagined the looks on the other ladies faces as she strode from the building, knocking over pot plants and ripping posters out of the window. She smiled.

“Anna?”

“Yes?”

“Do you understand?”

She realised she had missed whatever had been said. Her first dismissal and she had completely missed it.

“Oh, um , not exactly,” she said. “Could you please go over the main points again?”

Barry sat back in his chair, loosened his tie. “Obviously we’re not thrilled with the way you went about taking annual leave, Anna. It was against company procedure and did rather leave the other staff to pick up your slack, cancel and move appointments and what not.”

Anna felt suitably ashamed. She hadn’t stopped to consider the extra work she was dumping on the others.

“However, while in breach of your contract, we’ve taken onboard a glowing recommendation from Mr Hedley and all things considered, we feel that a suspension was unjustified.”

Anna blinked. “You mean I’m not fired?”

“Fired? Of course not.” Barry looked at Harold, perplexed. Harold shrugged his shoulders to signal that he was just as confused as Barry was. Peter looked at a spot somewhere over Anna’s left shoulder, his thoughts elsewhere and his purpose at the meeting unclear.

“Oh. I must have misunderstood her.”

“Her?”

“Judy.”

“Ah.” Barry and Harold exchanged another look as comprehension dawned. “Yes, Judy has been, how shall I put this,” he squinted at the far wall while he searched his vocabulary for the right words, and settled for, “a bit fast and loose with her newfound power.” Harold nodded in agreement. Peter shook his head, which Anna took to mean he was also in agreement but expressing his displeasure.

“Has she?” she said. “There’s a surprise.”

The men stared at her. Finally one ventured, “Sorry, was that,
sarcasm
?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“Sorry, it’s just that you only had to consult any of us worker bees on the shop floor before you went and promoted her. We could have told you what she’s like.”

“Oh.” Heavy sighs. More looks exchanged.

Anna took pity on them.

“Of course, she’s very good at her job,” she proffered up and they clutched at it gratefully, nodding like nodding dogs lined up on a dashboard.

“Yes,” they said, “she is. The figures for this branch are looking good. We’ve recently been announced as the best performing branch in the region.”

“Well there you go, it’s not all bad then. If you can iron out the other issues, like the fact that she despises us all and we’re not overly fond of her either, you might be able to salvage something.”

“Yes,” they nodded. “Maybe.”

Formalities over, the meeting wrapped up. Anna was free to return to work immediately. The suspension would be erased off her work record, although a verbal warning would remain in place.

“After all,” Harold said, “where would we be if everyone decided to take a holiday on a whim and no one showed up for work one morning?”

Anna accepted the warning gracefully and apologised. Then, emboldened by the new sense of freedom her time off had given her, she asked if she could pretty please, if it wasn’t too much trouble, have the remainder of the week off? Just to tidy up a few loose ends? She would of course complete the correct request form and leave it in Harold’s tray, she promised. She had learnt her lesson. Everything would be by the book and above board from now on. T’s crossed and I’s dotted.

“Well,” Barry said, looking to the others for any objections, of which there were none. “I guess that will be ok. I’ll let the tellers know they can start booking you in for appointments as of next Monday.” He stood up. The others followed suit. “Anything else or are we done?” he looked enquiringly around the table. Harold and Barry shook their heads.

“Thank you Sir.” Anna said, resisting the urge to curtsey.

“No thank
you
, Anna, for being so understanding. You have a long history with this company, and whether you know it or not you are highly thought of. When the others caught wind of what Judy had done we almost had a mutiny on our hands.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. They held a meeting of which the end result was, and I quote, ‘sack Anna and you’ll have to sack us all.’”

This gave Anna a lovely warm feeling. She got on well with the other ladies and there had even been a time when she had socialised with them out of work hours. Baby showers, happy hour drinks, the occasional naughty boozy lunch. When the collection tin was passed around for someone leaving, or someone’s birthday, she dug deep in her pocket, happy to contribute.

As she walked down the stairs she saw upturned face after upturned face, all smiling at her expectantly.

“Well?” Nadia called as she reached the bottom and her foot stepped onto the carpeted surface. “Don’t keep us in suspense, are you staying?”

Anna nodded. “I am.”

There was a chorus of happy sighs and congratulatory smiles.

“Welcome back Anna,” said Rochelle. “We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Anna said, realising it was true as she spoke the words. She hadn’t missed the place, but her co-workers? Yes.

“I’m so glad you’re coming back,” said Yvette. “We’ve missed your sense of humour in the staff room. It’s been a bit on the boring side without you to be honest. No offense,” she aimed this last bit at the others.

“See,” said Lorraine, “that’s what happens when enough people take a stand against bureaucracy. The little people win.”

“Woo hoo! Down with the establishment!” called out Holly, who had always been the most rebellious of them all. She pumped a fist in the air triumphantly. “We did it!”

“Thanks guys,” said Anna gratefully. “You really shouldn’t have put your own jobs on the line though.”

“Bullshit,” said Holly, caught up in the moment and forgetting where they were and that a line of impatient customers could hear every word. “You’d have done the same for any of us.”

Yes, Anna thought, she was right. She would have.

And
that
made her realise that the ladies now looking at her with warm affection were, in some kind of way, a family.

On the walk back home she mulled over this revelation and the knowledge that it was possible to be part of a family that weren’t, in the true sense of the word, your family.

This thought made her feel slightly less alone in the world.

              Chapter twenty seven

The thing that Anna had spent quite some time dreading happened, in the end, with barely a fizzle to speak of, like a disappointing wet firecracker.

Buddy, increasingly frustrated with the terms of his confinement, had taken to following her everywhere and quacking at the top of his voice indignantly. It was doing her head in. The solution involved, as so many things often do, a door left ajar. She had gone outside to take scraps to the compost heap early one morning and before opening the door she checked to make sure the coast was clear, which it seemed to be, so she went ahead and opened it, juggling the ducks bread and the scrap bowl as she did.

She greeted the ducks and threw out the bread before continuing on to the compost. She took her time, enjoying the crisp, unsullied air of the new morning, stopping to pluck a few weeds from amongst the lettuces, and was just weaving a loose tendril of her pea plant around the trellis when an almighty racket kicked up at the back door.

‘QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK’

‘QUACK!’

‘QUACK QUACK!’

Anna picked up the nearest weapon to hand, a little hand trowel as it turned out, and hurried back to the house expecting to have to fight a stray cat or dog that had gotten into the garden. But it wasn’t a stray cat or dog that was causing the ruckus amongst the ducks, it was Buddy.

A quick glance confirmed that Anna had left the door ajar and Buddy had somehow managed to prise it open. She stood there, fretting, unsure whether to swoop in and grab him or let nature take its course. As there was thus far no bloodshed she decided to wait and see what would happen, but she was remained poised to wade in and grab him if the need arose.

“Guys,” she said cautiously, “meet Buddy.”

‘QUACK’

“Buddy, meet the rest of the gang; Rodney, Sophie, Daffy, Princess and Marty. In my defence they were already named when I got them.”

One of her two large male ducks, the one named Rodney and the one she’d long suspected to be the alpha of the pack, circled an excited Buddy warily. They did the dog equivalent of sniffing one another.

‘QUACK’

‘QUACK’

‘QUACK?’

‘QUACK’

And that was it. No drama. No, ‘this is our territory back off if you know what’s good for you’ like she’d been worried about.

Just a few quacks, a few inquisitive pecks, one kick that may or may not have been accidental, and just like that Buddy was accepted as part of the family. The ducks waddled off together in the direction of the water bowl.

“Oh,” Anna watched them go. “Ok. Well, right. I guess that’s fine. Only he’s still quite small,” she called after them, despite the fact he was now the size of a rugby ball. “And he likes his food in his special bowl and his blanket puffed up before bed and -” she choked up. It was how she imagined some mothers’ might feel sending their children off on a sleepover for the first time.

For the rest of the day she stalked the ducks around the garden. When they started to get annoyed with her she retreated to the inside of the house and stalked them from behind the curtains. The house felt emptier and full of strange echoes again. Even her sighs seemed embarrassed to break the silence, dropping to the floor and scuttling off under the sideboard with barely a murmur.

“I guess it just us again,” Anna said to the walls. They acted like they hadn’t heard her.

But then as the sun fell and Anna nursed a large glass of red wine while half-heartedly watching a cooking show on TV there was a tap tap tap on the back door. She hurried to it and there was Buddy, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. He barrelled past her, full of news from his day.

‘QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK’

“You’re back,” she smiled, happier to see his feathery little face than she’d ever thought she’d be. She fed him, although he only managed a small amount as his eyes were heavy with fatigue. Then she fluffed up his blanket and watched as he nestled down, tucked his beak under his armpit, and went happily to sleep, snoring gently. That night, Anna did the same. And when she heard the dawn chorus and realised that for the first time in eleven hundred and seventy eight nights she hadn’t woken in the early hours with terror in her heart she wasn’t sure what to think.