Free Flying the Coop by Ilsa Evans Page A

I can’t have it, you know. It starts all the others up and then, before you know it, what have you got?’
    â€˜Animals?’
    â€˜Precisely.’
    â€˜Um, what exactly has he been saying?’
    â€˜All this absolute nonsense about a farm,’ she sighed testily. ‘Out in the country, of all places. With a barn, and chickens, and horses and all manner of outrageous things. Would you believe he’s been inviting all the others to visit? Because he’s moving there soon?’
    â€˜So he is.’
    â€˜And that the farmhouse probably won’t last but he’ll be sleeping in the barn with a slide and . . . what did you say?’
    â€˜I said so he is.’ Chris glared at the woman as her imagination started to supply her with the details of how she had treated Michael’s big news. With derision, and condemnation, and accusations of lying. Chris’s lips thinned and she felt her temper slip.
    â€˜Really, Ms Beggs, I don’t think it helps when –’
    â€˜Did it ever occur to you to check whether he was actually telling the truth? Because it so happens that we are moving in a few months. To a farm, in the country, with all of the things that he said it had. So I certainly hope you didn’t call him a liar before all of the other kids, because if you did, you owe him an apology. And I shall make sure he gets it.’
    â€˜Well, I . . . that is, I thought –’
    â€˜I think the trouble here is that you didn’t think. And that’s where we simply have to draw a line. Otherwise, you know what? We’re no different from the animals, are we?’
    â€˜Is this seat taken?’
    â€˜No, all yours.’ Chris moved closer to the dirt-smeared tram window to allow the middle-aged suit enough room. He sat down, leaning his wet umbrella carefully against the rear of the seat in front and holding on to it so it wouldn’t inadvertently fall on Chris.
    â€˜Rotten weather, hey?’
    â€˜Lousy.’
    â€˜Rain’s good for the farmers, though.’ He unfolded his newspaper with his spare hand and started to read it.
    â€˜ I’m going to be a farmer soon,’ blurted Chris.
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Yes, really. I’ve just bought a free-range egg farm down at Healesville. Twenty acres. Thousands of chooks.’
    â€˜Fascinating.’ Her companion rattled his paper.
    â€˜I’ll be moving down there with my kids in three months,’ continued Chris confidingly. ‘It’s got a two-storey house with a kitchen you wouldn’t believe. Totally yellow. Like something from That Seventies Show . And the carpet! You should see it – looks like regurgitated mud!’
    â€˜Oh, look! Here’s my stop already! Gotta go.’
    â€˜Hello, Mum?’
    â€˜Christin! How lovely to hear from you. I was just thinking of you today when Nora Gallagher’s cat had kittens and I thought, wouldn’t Christin have liked one of these when she was little. You were always after having a kitten but your father wouldn’t have it. I think that damaged you, you know.’
    â€˜I doubt it,’ said Chris, rolling her eyes without bothering to close them as she was using the phone.
    â€˜No, far be it from me to set myself up as an expert, but I think one develops certain needs if they’re not met as a child. And often one even –’
    â€˜Mum, could we not talk about my needs?’
    â€˜â€“ shies away from discussing them. See? It’s quite possible that’s why you’re divorced.’
    â€˜Okay. I have shy needs. Now, can we discuss something else? The weather?’
    â€˜Well, it’s glorious up here! I tell you, moving to the Gold Coast was the best thing I ever suggested. Even your father admits that.’
    â€˜How is Dad?’
    â€˜Oh, he’s fine. Did you want to speak to him?’
    â€˜Not necessarily, I only –’
    â€˜Graham! Graham!’