Page 86 of Rafferty's Rules
‘What about koalas?’ I say, disregarding the notion that something as cute as a wallaby could be a blight of any kind. ‘Do you have those here, too?’
‘And possums, and spiders, and snakes. All the things you’ll see in an Aussie zoo, we’ll have them here, but it doesn’t mean you’ll see them.’
‘Promise?’ The thought of snakes and spiders make me shiver. ‘The reptile and arachnid enclosures weren’t ever on my list of things to see while I’m in Australia.’
We pull up outside a two-story house which looks like something that’d look at home in an oil painting or a chocolate box. Ancient trees flank a building of tall windows, high chimney pots, and a wraparound veranda of white iron lattice work. It’s obviously an old house, and though it looks continental rather than colonial, there’s something a little antebellum about it, too.The grandeur and sweeping views.
Pushing open the passenger door, I climb out and stretch my back and legs as Rafferty grabs his weekend bag. What I have to bring with me would’ve fit in a grocery sack. Thankfully, I’m not arriving like a refugee, and my lack of belongings are hidden away in Rafferty’s bag.
‘Ready to meet the mob?’ he asks, threading his hand around my back with a cautious smile. I nod, and we take off, though not in the direction of the imposing pair of front doors, rather heading for the side of the house when a voice calls out, stopping us in our tracks.
‘Rafferty Phillips, don’t you dare take that lovely girl through the tradesman’s entrance.’
‘Christ. Get ready for the welcoming committee.’ We turn collectively, suddenly rushed by a pair of small yapping, fluffy dogs, shortly followed by two children—a girl and a boy, one fair-headed and one dark—who immediately begin peppering their uncle with questions.
‘Uncle Tee, did you bring me a new T-shirt.’ This from the boy who smiles shyly at me as he hangs onto Rafferty’s fingers.
‘Uncle Tee, is this your new girlfriend?’ The little girl is as pretty as she is fair, the lack of her front tooth adding something to her rambunctious air. She’s also not so timid as her brother as, before Rafferty can answer, she throws her arms around herself, her little body wiggling as she runs her hands up and down her arms. ‘Do you kiss her like this? Oh, kiss me, darling. Mwah, mwah!’
‘Dad told you not to do that,’ the little boy says with a frown.
‘But he’s not here, dibber-dobber,’ she returns, sticking out her tongue.
‘That’s enough of that, madam.’ The little girl comically yelps as a middle-aged blond-haired woman makes as though to smack her behind before the kid goes running back to the house, laughing all the way.
‘Don’t worry,’ the little boy calls over his shoulder as he takes off. ‘I’ll protect the cookies Amber has made for you!’
‘The prodigal son has returned.’ Hands on her slim hips, the woman shakes her head, her wide smile taking up half of her face.I think I might also detect a threatening tear or two, too.And it’s not an old looking face but maybe one that’s the result of great genes. I was expecting someone much more grandmotherly, especially given the way Rafferty has continually referred to her as his “old mum”.
‘Mum.’ Rafferty’s hand slides from my back, and he takes a step towards her.
‘It’s good to have you home, son.’ For a woman small, she sure does give a big hug, as I find out myself when we’re introduced next.
‘It’s so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Phillips,’ I whisper, mainly because she’s squeezing the air out of me.
‘You too, love. You too. But call me Sally. I’m not the only Mrs. Phillips in the place, and there’ll be another this weekend. And you never know when there’ll be another,’ she adds, her eyes glittering.
‘Now, let me have a look at the pair of you. Gorgeous,’ she proclaims, giving Rafferty the gimlet eye. ‘Even if this one needs a haircut.’
‘Now Mum, don’t start.’
‘Have you brought your suit?’ she asks, jumping to the next topic like a cat hopping from a tree. And speaking of cats ...
‘Oh!’ I dash back to the car and pull out Cat’s brand-new swanky carrier, an unexpected gift (for Cat,hiscat) from Rafferty. ‘Did we even ask if this was okay?’ My gaze darts between Rafferty and his mom.
‘Yeah, fine. The more, the merrier,’ she says, waving my concerns away. ‘Chickens, dogs, little monsters; what difference is one tiny kitten going to make?’
‘I see the twins wore Byron down.’ Rafferty smirks as he points at the dogs sniffing nearby plants.
‘Yep, poor old Dave died, but he still wasn’t giving in. At least until Amber stepped in. She has an uncanny knack of bringing him around to her way of thinking. I can’t think how.’ Her tone is so heavy in meaning, it leaves little doubt that Rafferty and Byron share a favourite pastime.Bedroom Olympics.
By some unspoken agreement, we all begin walking in the direction of the open front doors, Sally between us, her arms wrapped around each of our waists before, at the top of the steps she whistles ear-splittingly loud. The two pups come trotting immediately.
‘I see someone’s taken the time to train them well.’
She nods. ‘Pity we couldn’t have managed with these feral kids.’
We walk through a wide hallway, past a grand wooden staircase. Rooms running either side, when Sally pushes a door open, and we step into a breakfasting kitchen, the kind that is an entertainer’s dream. An expanse of white wood, pale marble countertops, wooden floors and ceiling beams, a walk-in pantry and a Belfast sink. And there’s still space in the room to dance in.
