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Serves the Bugger Right!

A last minute grab to regain personal power

By Coralie SickmannPublished 5 years ago 5 min read
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"Thank god it's Friday." Callie collapsed into the chair, surveying the scene.

Crystal glasses. A lacy tablecloth to replace the plastic one. Best dinner set and cutlery.

Her daughter Lisa wandered in, taking in the scene.

"Wow. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion—except we made it through another week"

Callie sighed. "If we don't have daylight savings, how come the days seem so much longer now, and the nights shorter?"

She strode by the insect door, breathing in the cool breeze, while mopping the sweat dripping from her brow. Outside, insects buzzed and a chorus of birds signalled approaching dark .

A bang of the downstairs door was followed by the thunder of boots on the stairs. Callie opened the oven door for one final check.

The golden, crisp potatoes smiled happily at her. Kumara and onion sizzled merrily in the meats juices. The meat itself stood cooling on the bench - caught in that moment of perfection between dripping blood and tender and juicy.

Even a bottle of wine sat breathing its fruity bouquet into the air.

The footsteps disappeared then resurfaced louder and more furious. Andy brushed past her into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door to grab a bottle of milk, remove the lid and begin gurgling away into it.

"Ugh, gross dad. That better not be my milk!" Lisa glared from across the room.

"I pay for it. I can drink it how I like. Have you done anything about your room yet? Gross doesn't even begin to cover it!"

Open hostilities over, Lisa stomped off, muttering, to her messy haven.

Andy spied another target. "Why the hell did you have to cook a roast on the hottest bloody day of the year so far?"

Callie noted that didn't stop him reaching over and slicing a tender corner off the meat, chewing in obvious delight before returning for more.

Callie carefully folded the tea towel before opening the oven door and balancing the tray's edge in the tea towel. She wobbled precariously towards the table.

"Watch what you're doing!" Expertly Andy folded another tea towel and removed a perfectly balanced tray. "Get out of the way!" Pushing her tray onto the tablecloth he positioned his tray on the table mat. "Is it ready?"

Callie busied herself pouring drinks and generally avoiding the snappy comments that were flooding her mind.

"Is she eating with us?" Again she bit her tongue. He continued, "It'll be different once she leaves school next year. If she doesn't like it she can bloody well leave."

Seeing Callie's face he changed tack. "She needs discipline. You can't be a friend and a mother."

Callie headed off to the bedroom. She rapped on the door. Despite knowing the answer she asked. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

"No, I'm going out. I hate this place. I'll have something later."

Shoulders drooping, she retraced her steps to the dining room. Andy was already halfway through his plateful, almost purring as he ate.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Callie hesitated. No point saying she wasn't hungry. Or that her head was bursting as the slightest noise and light hammered their way into it. She pulled out her chair and sat down.

The food seemed sad and wilted. Taking one of everything, she piled her plate up.

Andy started speaking only to be overpowered by the shrill ring of the telephone.

Both waited for Lisa to pick it up. She was the undisputed queen of the line, with 90 percent of calls beginning "Can I speak to Lisa please?"

The ring stopped. Then was replaced by Lisa's voice . She bristled into the room, holding the phone aloft.

"It's for you. I'm going out now."

Callie held the phone nervously to her ear. "Hello, Callie here."

"Hello Mrs Oliver. My name is Imran. I am calling to let you know you are the lucky winner of a holiday. We are offering a special discount to a lucky number of people."

Callie swallowed desperately. Trying to summon up words to halt the tirade. Twice she managed to get two words in. Even if one of them was sorry.

Still the voice continued. Loud and fractured. English yet foreign. Words blended into one another making little sense.

Finally she just blurred it out. Concentrating on her plans for tomorrow it took her a minute to realise he was waiting for her response. She looked at the clock. Andy had long ago shook his head in disgust and left.

She focused on the words. "So madam all we need now to conclude business is your credit card number. You will need to choose your final destination and dates. So your name is Callie Oliver, What is your address?"

Callie summoned her voice back from its hiding place. Still it seemed weak and far away. "Sorry but I'm not interested."

"Madam, we have reached a stage in our conversation where you need to complete your details. Do you have s middle name?"

It was like trying to penetrate a sound proof room. Her face and hands signalled no but on the phone it was useless. Steeling herself for confrontation she raised her voice a notch, noting the automatic effort to stand tall as she did this. "I am sorry but I am not interested in what you are selling. Thank you. Goodbye."

The voice continued booming in her ear until she quietly disconnected the call.

Turning towards the abandoned table she began clearing away the remnants of what was to be a fine family dinner.

Halfway to the bench the phone rang once more, shrill and piercing. It just kept ringing.

Hesitantly she picked it up.

A familiar voice leapt out at her. "Madam, you have been wasting my time. Why you did not say earlier that you were not interested!"

His frustration was evident in the tortured English and the demanding tone.

Callie hesitated only briefly. She believed strongly in politeness and fairness. But enough was enough.

She reached into the drawer and pulled out the scout whistle. She drew a deep breath and blew with all her might, holding the whistle directly in front of the receiver. She did this twice. Then once more for good measure. Then she hung up once more.

Serve the bugger right!

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