How to be a Good Veronica. Michael K Freundt
her knowledge of human nature should equip her with the water-wings other people found so problematic to use. But there was still no romance in her life.
4
Erskineville feels like a suburb within a suburb; it's hard to find because if there was a sign to follow and then you checked to see where you were you would've passed it. Veronica’s motherlived in a little cul-de-sac, “The Crescent”, a circular piece of bitumen around a grassy patch that was a neighbourhood battle ground and therefore always unkempt. No. 3A was a small worker’s cottage, moderately renovated, one room wide and three rooms deep, with a garden bit out the back that was so dark from next door’s overgrown and invasive bamboo, even weeds couldn’t grow. As Veronica drove up onto the footpath and parked, leaving just enough room for a two seater to pass, three sets of curtains, 5B, 12A and 19B1 were parted by arthritic fingers. A woman stood on the little verandah of 3A with her arms folded and watched the parking manoeuvre with a wry smile on her face. She was about seventy, slight in stature which made her permed head of hair seem too large for her face, and she wore a plain wrap-around house-skirt that in anybody else’s wardrobe might be called a cut-off dressing gown. Despite this, and the hour of the day, she was heavily made up and wore very large jewellery; too large for her size Veronica always wanted to say. This was Rene, Veronica’s mother, but everyone called her Sally.
“Mr. Tilly, Crazy Nell and Itchy-Bum will all be round later to see what you’ve bought me,” said Sally nodding towards the three sets of now swaying curtains as Veronica passed though the little iron gate.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring you anything,” said Veronica.
“And they’ll want to know why,” she said suggesting an explanation had to be made up.
“Because you didn’t tell me what you needed,” seemed to Veronica her only option: she wasn’t going to play this game.
“Then they will be so disappointed. Come in, you know the way: nothing’s changed.” She turned and went inside. Veronica followed. The first room on the right, they were all on the right, was ‘the front’ room, then a bedroom, and then the rest of the house. This was really where Sally lived; kitchen, sitting room, library, and den all rolled into one, with a bathroom and loo out the back. It was cluttered but homely, dusty but warm and what free surfaces there were could not put up with too much close attention. Sally was a little lax with housework.
“So what have you been doing today?” asked Veronica as she sat in an overstuffed chair. She got the answer she expected.
“Waiting for you,” said Sally as she looked up at the tea cups in the cupboard above the sink.
“Would you like me to get those for you?” asked Veronica on cue.
“Would you darling? I can’t reach them as easily as I could.”
“Why don’t you put them somewhere where you can reach them?”
“But they’ve always lived up there. It’s where they belong. Besides I only use these when you’re here, so for so few outings, there they’ll stay.” Veronica should’ve seen that one coming. “I use the chipped ones and I keep them in the cutlery drawer: I don’t need much cutlery.”
Dear god! “But what would you have been doing if I wasn’t coming?” asked Veronica as she retrieved the cups and saucers.
Sally returned to her seat. “Waiting for you,” she said as she smoothed her skirt over her knees.
Veronica gave out an audible sigh.
“It’s true!” said Sally “The inordinate number of hours in a day is the biggest challenge of my life. I got such a thrill the other day when I went to the Lapsong Souchong tin, instead of the usual Earl Grey or the Russian Caravan. There was only one tea bag left! That meant I had to go down the shops again. That’s at least an hour and a half, and longer if I take smaller steps. I was ecstatic!”
“Oh, Sally, it can’t be that bad.”
“What are you saying? I’m talking here about a highlight of my day. You should be happy for me. I know I was. Do you have milk?”
“You know I don’t have milk.”
“Just checking. I’m always up for a surprise these days. And there is always the slim possibility that now you do take milk, and I’d be up for another trip to the shops. Just imagine!” Veronica noticed that Sally had sat down again and was, no doubt, waiting to be waited on.
“Shall I make tea?”
“Would you darling? Thank you.”
While Veronica prepared the tea Sally chatted away. “I found a twenty dollar bill in a Bryce Courtney book last month: did I tell you? Got such a thrill I went to the bank, took out some cash, and hid a total of $150 in a selection of books chosen at random. That’s a lot of money but think of the cornucopia of surprises.” She gazed longingly at the rows and rows of dusty books above her. “And now I can’t find any of it.”
“Do you need some cash?” asked Veronica as she carried two mismatched cups with mismatched saucers to the little coffee table and put them down on a pile of New Ideas dating from 1974.
“No, I need some surprises! Thank god you’re here and I’m hanging out for you to stay longer than usual: another surprise! This could be a real red-letter day. But don’t think I’m complacent. Tomorrow’s another day, some bright spark said once, and if this day gets too exciting tomorrow’s bound to be shit.” She looked at her daughter who was putting sugar in her cup of tea obviously not paying attention to her mother.
“You’ve already put sugar in your tea.”
“I take two.”
“Yes, I know. I was just trying to be polite.”
So to change the subject, “You said you had something to tell me.”
“Oh that.” Sally immediately became weary. She sat there with her eyes closed as if garnering the strength to go on. And then... “It’s always hard to tell you of an idea I’ve had because you’re so dismissive of my ideas, always have been.”
“M-u-m,” whined Veronica as a warning. She only called her that on occasions like this.
Sally took a deep breath and sighed her idea: “I’m going to take out a loan and turn the front room into a bed-sit so I can rent it out.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Veronica all smiles.
“A-n-d,” drawled a big-eyed Sally staring at her daughter.
“Oh,” and Veronica’s face fell.
“I need you to go guarantor on the loan.”
“Oh Mum! I don’t know whether I can do that.”
“Of course you can do that. You’re self-employed. You keep telling me how well you’re doing. You’re always so busy. Even I have to make an appointment to see you.”
“If you need more money I can help you out a bit every now and then.”
“It’s not the money, it’s the company.”
“But you’ve always lived alone.”
“Technically, yes, but there’s always been someone around.”
“You want a man to move into the front room?”
“Not necessarily. I was thinking more of a university student. The uni’s not far away. A young girl, perhaps, who would come and go and bring some life back into the house.”
And make you cups of tea and cook you meals at night. “University students are very busy people, studying and getting on with their own lives.”
“You’re enthusiasm for my idea is overwhelming,” she said flatly. “As usual.”
“OK.