Lessons From Ducks (3 page)

“Have a wonderful evening,” Anna called after her. The woman grunted.

At the checkout Anna tried again to initiate conversation, this time with the elderly cashier whose gnarled and arthritic hands suggested she was in this job out of necessity, not choice.

“Busy tonight isn’t it?” Anna smiled.

“Normal.”

“Sorry?”

The cashier sighed. “It’s normal for this time of night. Everyone grabbing something for dinner on the way home.”

“Oh right.”

Anna continued smiling as the cashier, whose name tag introduced her as Betty, scanned her items.

“Bugger. Did they tell you how much this was?” Betty asked, holding up a plastic container of beetroot salad that Anna had decided to treat herself with from the deli.

“No I’m sorry, they didn’t. Didn’t they put a sticker on it?” She craned her neck, trying to see the bottom. “Normally they put a sticker on it.”

“If there was a sticker on it I wouldn’t need to ask you how much it was, would I.”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Wait here,” Betty frowned at Anna, as if she considered her a flight risk the minute her back was turned.

“Ok.” Anna humoured her.

Betty pushed a button and the number above her head lit up. While she waited for the supervisor to hustle her way over she looked at the people queuing behind Anna.

“Sorry folks,” she said, “but this lady bought up a salad without a sticker so we’ll need to wait for a price check.”

Anna heard dramatic sighs and cursed mutterings over her shoulder.

“It’s hardly my fault,” she protested to Betty.

“I never said it was.”

The supervisor – Irene, according to her own badge - arrived and listened as Betty explained the problem. She looked at Anna, eyes narrowed.

“They didn’t put a sticker on it?” she asked, her tone suggesting her belief that Anna had removed the sticker herself.

“I guess not.”

She sucked in her breath sharply. “That’s not like them.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “They always put the stickers on, don’t they Betty.”

“They sure do.”

“Well, clearly not
always
,” Anna pointed out.

They both looked at her as if she had insulted the entire workforce of the supermarket. “Look, maybe it came unstuck and ended up on something else.” Anna suggested, turning over a few of her other items patiently waiting their turn on the conveyor belt. “Look, here it is,” she held up a can of baked beans triumphantly, the offending sticker stuck to the side of it. The cashier and the supervisor exchanged knowing looks, as if to say, ‘see, this crazy lady planned it all along for attention’.

“I didn’t move it,” Anna said, hand over heart.

“Mmm.”

The supervisor hustled off. The cashier continued scanning.

“No really, I didn’t.”

“That will be thirty four dollars and seventy six cents.”

Anna swiped her card through the eftpos machine, entered her account and pin number and tried to protest her innocence one final time. “Honestly, it must have come loose in the basket. I’m sure it happens all the time.”

“Here is your receipt, have yourself a nice evening.”

Betty the cashier passed over her bag of groceries and in a clear sign of dismissal turned to the next customer. “Sorry about the delay,” she apologised to him, a man in his forties buying a box of beer and a packet of sanitary pads.

“That’s quite alright. I know it wasn’t your fault,” he replied.

“It wasn’t my fault either,” Anna clutched her bag to her chest, reluctant to leave until her innocence was proven.

“Had a good day then?” Betty chirped to the man. Her personality had seemed to undergo a transplant in the last two minutes and Anna struggled to reconcile her with the grumpy old goat who had served her.

“Not bad, can’t complain thanks. Of course it’s getting better now I’m on my way home,” he gestured towards the box of beer, “hahaha.”

“Haha,” Betty agreed.

Anna wondered if a black hole had opened up and swallowed her where she stood. She leant forward and waved a hand experimentally in Betty’s line of vision. Betty frowned in annoyance but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her.

Anna gave up.

As she walked the rest of the way home, her purchases heavy and the plastic straps of the bag cutting red welts into her arms so she had to stop every few minutes to readjust, she pondered just what it was about her that had set Betty off on the wrong foot. She’d been nice, hadn’t she? She’d tried to make pleasant small talk, as she always felt compelled to do with people in the customer service industry. Anna had always been slightly baffled by the sort of person who could order a coffee, try on shoes or purchase a new car without barely a cursory word spoken. Over the years she’d lined up in queues and watched, a little appalled, as the person ahead of her demanded their double trim lightly whipped full cream macchiato, or something along those lines, without any eye contact or simple pleasantries exchanged whatsoever.

Anna was not one of those people. She had been raised to always look the waitress/salesperson/cashier straight in the eye, smile broadly, and enquire as to their health/day/life or comment on either their delightful name/choice of outfit. It was just in her nature. Somewhere along the way though the shoe had skipped over to the other foot and now it was perfectly acceptable behaviour for the waitress/salesperson/cashier to ignore the customer or serve them with exaggerated indifference, as if they were doing
you
the favour by bothering to assist you. Still, Anna persisted with her niceties.

At the gate she noticed with alarm that yet more paint chips came away under her hand, and she made a mental note to check the brand of paint left in the tin in the shed and avoid it when making her next selection.

Halfway up the garden path they heard her, and with a chorus of QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK’S they rounded the corner, skidding to a halt at her feet, the two in the rear connecting beak to feathered tail with the leaders after their fruitless efforts to stop on time.

‘QUACK’ they said crossly, shaking the heads and attempting to restore dignity.

“At least someone is happy to see me,” Anna smiled gratefully.

‘QUACK’

“Oh I just had a run in with a lady at the supermarket. It has left me a little depressed, if I’m honest.”

‘QUACK QUACK’

“Yes, I’m aware of the time.”

‘QUACK’

“Yes I’m sure you
are
hungry, but can I just have a moment to pretend that it’s me you’re delighted to see and not the bag of food in my arms?”

‘QUACK’

“Thank you.”

She watched them fondly for a minute before the quacking become quite indignant, and with a sigh she told them – “Meet you round back” – and let herself into the front door. She was filled with an immediate sense of belonging the second she stepped over her threshold.

Home.

Closing the world outside behind her she stepped over a stray t-shirt (“oh”, she sighed, “I guess I’ll pick that up shall I?”) and made her way to the kitchen where she unpacked her purchases. She fed the ducks and checked on Mrs Dudley, who, upon seeing Anna, lumbered to her feet with the duck equivalent of a groan and waddled out through a gap in the barricade to dine with the others.

“I’ll just babysit these guys for you shall I?” Anna called after her.

She tried to lift a few flax leaves to check on the eggs and confirm her earlier count but a warning quack saw her drop them again hurriedly. Once Mrs Dudley was sated and comfortable back on the nest Anna headed back into the house. On her way upstairs to change she picked up the clothing dotted around the floor and placed them in the laundry hamper.

“I must do some washing soon,” she noted, as the hamper was over three quarters full.

Back downstairs, now in comfortable tights and a long green tunic top, she smiled to herself as she collected toys from various positions and put them back into the toy box. Then she made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen island to drink it. A fly landed near her hand and she watched it; its delicate wings threaded through with what looked like black veins, and its mirrored eyes giving her the uncomfortable feeling that it was observing her magnified times ten. She coughed and it flew away, close enough to her ear that she could hear the buzzing noise it made. Was the noise from its mouth or its wings? 

A lawnmower whirred somewhere in the neighbourhood, occasionally spluttering as something temporarily clogged up the petrol pipe. A muffled thud indicated that a kick was all that was required to clear it.

From time to time she heard a quack from one of the ducks as they fought over the most popular sleeping spots in the garden.

She could hear cars in the distance, and someone whistling for their dog on the reserve that backed onto the cul de sac.

In Anna’s house, the silence didn’t just echo; it bounced off rafters, slid down windowpanes, rolled off benches and skidded across the floor.

Chapter four

Her resolve lasted almost two weeks but on the Thursday at the end of the second week she decided enough time had passed for any furore to have quietened down. After work she stopped by a cafe and ordered a large creamy caramel hot chocolate as a treat – managing to ignore the tempting brownies that beckoned to her from within the cabinet - and carrying the takeaway Styrofoam cup she took the road that led to the playground.

It was one of those late summer afternoons that reminded Anna of her childhood. A hazy sky, streaked with faint pastel pinks that signalled a glorious sunset would at some point be forthcoming. Warm sun beamed down on her head. Unseen birds twittered in trees, a gentle breeze fanned the flowers that lined the road, causing their delicious scents to waft up and treat her with their sweetness. She stopped in front of a particularly pretty rose, a deep gorgeous purple bloom with an abundance of petals curved around each other. She closed her eyes – after making sure there were no bees on the flower first – and inhaled deeply.

“Ohhhh,” she sighed, “that is simply divine.”

A man walked past at that moment with a black and white dog tugging at its lead, his mouth open as he panted, sharp white teeth smiling as a long pink tongue lolled out the side. The dog stopped at her feet and smiled up at her excitedly, tail wagging.

“Sorry,” the man said, “he’s a friendly wee chap.”

“No need for apologies,” Anna smiled, patting the dog on the head and admiring his long silky ears. “He’s lovely.”

“He is,” the man smiled back at her gratefully. Not all who he met on his daily walks were as appreciative of the dog’s attentions. “I tell you,” he laughed, “It takes me a fair while to just get around the block some days, what with all the people he wants to stop and greet.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sully.”

Anna started to say that it was an unusual name for a dog but then she thought how some people might find the name Mrs Dudley odd for a duck so she stopped. The man read her expression.

“My kids named him, after some monster in a cartoon movie I believe.”

“Oh you have children? Why aren’t they walking Scully?”

If the man was perturbed by her personal question he didn’t show it.

“Oh you know,” he said, “usual story. Couple of Christmases ago they were all, ‘Please dad, please can we have a dog! We promise to feed him and clean up after him and walk him every day! Pleeeease!’” he laughed. “So I bought this fella,” he paused to fondly touch the dogs head. Then he shrugged ruefully. “Of course the novelty for the children wore off after a few months when he destroyed toys and soiled their cricket patch.”

He saw Anna frown.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he added hurriedly, “they adore him, and they’ll throw a ball in the backyard for a while if I nag hard enough. But it’s me who feeds him, who picks up his messes and who walks him. I don’t mind though,” he patted his stomach and winked conspiratorially; “I need the exercise.”

“Hardly,” Anna said, because it seemed to be expected from her.

The dog, satisfied that he had found another fan in Anna and spotting children ahead - more potential fans - tugged at the leash, anxious to be off.

“Woah,” the man laughed, “you have a good day miss,” he said to Anna, and then he was gone.

“You too,” she called after him. She watched as Scully pulled him off up the road towards where the children were playing, his tail wagging energetically. She’d considered getting herself a dog once, some time ago when the loneliness and the sound of her own breathing had become almost unbearable. She’d imagined their life together; one sided conversations – at least there would be someone to listen - and cosy cuddles by the fire in Winter, the dog with his head on her lap or feet while she read. At her desk she daydreamed of walks after work around the neighbourhood. She would take the dog to the river for swims and to fetch sticks and dig holes and do whatever else it was that dogs liked to do. She’d even spent time in the pet store one Saturday morning planning the bed she would buy it – a stylish black and white number – and bowl – green, with black bones around the rim. The collar had taken more deliberation. She ruled out the awful ones with studs – they looked sadistic – but was torn between the lovely leather ones with the white stitching, or the more practical heavy duty canvas ones, guaranteed, according to the label, to stand up to any amount of activity your dog could throw at it.

The decision was unnecessary in the end. She spent an hour, crouched on the floor, gazing into the cage where the puppies were housed - a litter of black and chocolate Labradors - watching as they chased tails and nibbled enthusiastically on ears and noses and clambered over the top of each other, tumbling to the ground head over bum before shaking it off and repeating. They were absolutely adorable, no question. A soft, wet inquisitive nose left a smear of something wet on the back of her hand through the bars and she thought her heart would melt into a puddle right there in her chest.

“Precious little things aren’t they,” a voice had said indulgently over her right shoulder.

Anna stood up, too quickly as it were, the blood rushing into her head with a deafening and dizzying roar. She’d wobbled on her feet.

“Whoa,” the female owner of the voice, who also happened to own the pet shop, reached out a hand to steady her. “Are you ok? Do you need some water?”

“No I’m fine, thank you,” Anna had smiled, embarrassed. “I just forgot how long I’d been crouching down.”

“Are you sure? I can have my husband fetch a chair -?”

“No really, I’m feeling much better already,” and she’d let go of the shelf she had grasped a minute earlier, stood as straight as her spine would go and smiled broadly to prove her point.

“Ok then,” the woman had smiled back at her. Her badge introduced her as Pam, Owner/Operator, and there was a cartoon picture of a dog’s paw print in the top right hand corner. “I can understand why you lost track of time though,” Pam continued, turning to face the puppies. “These guys have been proving very popular since they turned up a few days ago.”

‘They’re all from the same litter?”

“Oh yes. There were originally eight of them but three have already found homes.”

Anna turned back to the puppies again. For the first time she read the words on the sign tacked to the front of the cage. The price – eighty dollars a puppy – seemed reasonably cheap, at least according to the furtive research she’d done on the computer at work. “Are they purebred Labradors?” she’d asked.

“No, not at that price I’m afraid” Pam had shaken her head. “The mother is a champion purebred chocolate breeding dog who has produced some very fine litters. But she got a little, shall we say
frisky
, and made out with a dog of indiscriminate breed from the farm next door. Her owner was not impressed, let me tell you.”

“Oh dear, no I bet he wasn’t.”

“It’s not the first time he’s caught them together apparently, but it’s the first litter they’ve produced. Says he’s tried all sorts to keep them apart, from barbed wire fences – bit over the top, if you ask me – to keeping her on a permanent chain. Somehow they keep getting to each other.”

“Sounds as if they have a romantic relationship,” Anna mused.

“That’s what I said to him, a modern day Romeo and Juliet, albeit canine. Star crossed lovers. He didn’t find it as amusing as I did,” Pam chuckled.

“Well they’re very cute regardless of their parentage. I’m sure you won’t have much trouble finding homes for the rest.”

“Are you interested in adopting one?”

“I was,” Anna had admitted. “But now I’m wondering if it would really be fair.”

“Fair?”

“I work,” Anna elaborated, “full time, five days a week. I do have a nice yard but it’s not big by any means. These little guys look like they need a bit of exercise.” They both observed the puppies wrestling energetically.

Pam nodded. “They sure do, otherwise they’ll start getting up to mischief. A walk every night should see them right – if you can manage that?”

Anna thought about it. Summer wouldn’t be too much of a problem, with its lengthy daylight hours, but in winter she tended to hibernate once home from work. It became dark by quarter past five and she didn’t fancy venturing out in that. Not on her own. Then there were the ducks to consider as well, of course. She didn’t know enough about dogs and ducks as species to know whether they could cohabitate her backyard in harmony. In fact, once she thought about it, didn’t Labradors retrieve ducks for hunters? Reluctantly, she’d decided not to rush the decision and commit herself, not when she couldn’t be sure of meeting all of the puppies needs. More time was needed for the decision, to think on it. In the end she never went back to get herself a puppy. The timing was never right. But the desire was still with her. One day, she often told herself.

Now, watching Scully drag the man off down the road she felt more confident than ever that she’d made the right decision.

Sighing, she turned back and continued her walk home via the playground. As she neared she felt her shoulders tighten and her breathing quicken. Would that horrible poor-excuse-for-a-mother be there? Would she have started some sort of trouble with the other mothers regarding Anna’s presence? But no, she was relieved to see as she scanned the heads present that the woman was not amongst them. The tension left her shoulders and she took her usual place on the bench seat furthest from where the mother’s congregated.

She’d done well nursing her drink all the way here and from the weight she estimated it was still approximately half full, perhaps a touch over. She would take her time and enjoy it while she also enjoyed the sound and sight of the children. Their sweet melodic laughter was already working miracles on that spot inside of her that withered and blackened when she went too long on her own and without pleasures like this. The smile that creased her cheeks was not the smile she wore at work; the one that lied to customers and told them how delighted she was to meet and help them. It was her genuine smile; the one only seen in rare glimpses over recent years.

The warmth of the sky warmed her soul. Reflections of pale lemon yellow and amber from the slowly sinking sun coloured the clouds. Leaves rustled. Flowers bloomed. Songbirds sang. Nature had primped herself up in her finest and was now ready for admiration. Anna duly obliged.

She took a sip of her drink and enjoyed the warm chocolaty taste.

The chains on the swings nearby creaked in protest as they were swung back and forth to eager cries of ‘higher!’

The seesaw thudded to the ground as one child, obviously much heavier than the one perched on the other end, lifted his feet up. The smaller boy - the one left in the air - tried jiggling up and down, legs dangling, in an effort to budge his smirking friend off the ground, but to no avail.

“Aw it’s not fair Duncan,” the smaller boy pouted. “You fat bastard.”

Anna choked on her drink and a small amount was sucked up into her nose instead of swallowed down her throat. She started spluttering and coughing, her eyes watering as she fought to take a clear breath, fumbling in her pocket for the clean tissue she always kept there in case for emergencies.

She didn’t see the boys on the seesaw stop arguing and eye her with interest, a new subject of mirth.

“Haha she’s choking, silly cow,” fat Duncan said.

“Yeah looks pretty bad, maybe she’ll die right here in front of us,” the other boy added hopefully.

Anna didn’t hear them. Neither did she hear the child who had approached from her left, cautiously and unseen, when he asked, “Are you ok Miss?”

It was only as he was repeating his question for the third time, right after she had finished noisily blowing her nose into the tissue to expel all last traces of the errant hot chocolate, that she noticed him.

And then for the second time in five minutes Anna found she had lost the ability to breathe.

She was frozen in place, mouth open slightly, eyes wide and staring at the child standing in front of her. All colour drained from her skin till she was left milky white, like freshly fallen snow. The boy had never seen snow, but he did have a grandmother who had gotten very sick and died once. Before she died she went the same colour as the woman before him now was. He frowned nervously.

“Dad?” he called over his shoulder.

Anna started to shake. “No,” she mouthed softly, reaching out a hand towards the boy, who was starting to regret his decision to approach her.

The boy took a step away from Anna. “Dad!” he called again, louder this time, and with a fearful tone. It worked and a man appeared seemingly from nowhere to scoop the boy up into his arms.

“What’s up?” the man asked the boy. The boy squirmed until his father put him back down – he was too old to be picked up in public - and pointed at Anna.

“I think there’s something wrong with her,” he whispered loudly to his father. “She looks like nanny did before she became a star in the sky.”

The man appraised Anna, her arm still outstretched - although it had drooped somewhat – her mouth still formed in the shape of the letter O.

“She does a bit, doesn’t she,” he remarked. He took a step closer to Anna and tilted his head to one side like a budgie.