Читать книгу How to be a Good Veronica - Michael K Freundt - Страница 5

As Veronica walked into the kitchen, Jack was sitting on a bar-stool at the kitchen island bench with a middle aged pale-skinned woman. Both were sipping from large coffee mugs.

“Hello,” said Veronica, her voice tinged with curiosity and foreboding.

“Hi Mum! This is Mrs. Verlarny,” said Jack with a curious tone of inevitability.

“Hi!” said Veronica. “I’m Veronica Souter.” She held out her hand and the woman took it and clasped it firmly; too firmly for Veronica’s liking. This was a person who felt an over-firm handshake would make you like them instantly: her guard went up like an activated air-bag.

“Good afternoon,” said the woman with a broad smile. “Daphne Verlarny.” The woman was as pale as A4 paper but the name sounded Asian, although Veronica couldn’t be sure; she was slim, conservatively dressed with an undeniable erect and elegant poise. Put on, perhaps?

“I see Jack has made you some coffee,” said Veronica smiling. ‘Well done’ to Jack.

“Actually it’s tea, and very refreshing,” said Daphne Verlarny.

“Mum thinks that tea should only be drunk out of tea cups but they hold so little and one tea bag makes so much,” said Jack in a sing-song voice as if such an attitude could only be expected from today’s mothers.

“And do you think you could make me one too?” asked Veronica.

“I suppose you want a tea cup,” said Jack.

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” Even if she didn’t mind tea in a mug, which she did, she didn’t want to seem to be on this woman’s side, whatever it might be.

“OK,” said Jack, climbing down from his bar-stool and as he walked around the bench into the galley kitchen, Daphne Verlarny said,

“I’m sorry to come without any warning but circumstances and today’s little incident conspired to make this the most convenient option.”

“Little incident?” queried Veronica wishing for a better explanation. “So what....?”

“I was trying to explain to Mrs. Verlarny that it was just a little argument,” began Jack as he climbed on the bench to get the tea cups from a high cupboard.

“Jack, let Ms. Verlarny explain. I think that’s best.”

“Please,” said Mrs. Verlarny, “call me Daphne.”

“So, what’s this all about?” said Veronica in a tone that made it clear that she was already on Jack’s side.

“Do you know Cinnamon Carmody?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do, Mum,” said Jack with a little too much annoyance in his voice. “She’s the one I told you about; the one with the plait. I asked you if it had any religious meaning.”

“I don’t remember that Jack, sorry, but can I ask, Ms. Verlarny, what you have to do with this plait business?”

“My apologies, I thought you knew. Jack, haven’t you told your mother about my new job at the school?”

“Y-e-s!” said Jack in that annoying tone again.

“OK. Let’s start again,” said Veronica taking the lead.

“Yes. Of course,” said Mrs. Verlarny, determined to take the reins herself. “I’m Daphne Verlarny, the new Community Relations Officer at the school and Jack and Cinnamon Carmody had a fight in the playground today.”

“A fight?” said Veronica looking over at Jack as he put the cup of tea on the bench for Veronica. She saw that he had reused the tea bag and she wanted a fresh one but saying so would’ve put her off Jack’s side and she wanted firmly to be on Jack’s side, if only to be not on this woman’s side.

“It wasn’t a fight,” said Jack resenting having to say it again. “It was an argument.”

“That’s not what Ms. Brooksbank said, Jack,” countered Mrs. Verlarny.

“Ms. Brooksbank didn’t see anything, she just heard it and made a mistake,” said Jack as he took his seat again.

“Jack, are you saying Ms. Brooksbank is lying?” asked Mrs. Verlarny as she turned her head accusingly in Jack’s direction. Veronica felt a strong urge to slap this woman. It wouldn’t be the last.

“She didn’t see. She wasn’t there. She was around the corner and came to see what all the shouting was about.”

“And, darling, what was all the shouting about?” said Veronica having now sized up the situation and knew exactly how to handle this.

Jack looked at his mother quizzically, she rarely called him ‘darling.’

“I asked her about her plait. I wanted to know why she always wore her hair like that. I thought it was interesting. But I suppose I used the wrong words, or something, because she got upset about what I meant. I dunno. I was just asking.”

“But, Ms. Brooksbank was very sure.....” began Mrs. Verlarny.

“Ms. Verlarny, please,” interrupted Veronica as she held one finger up in front of Mrs. Verlarny’s, now, rather stern face. “Just one moment.”

“Jack, do you like Cinnamon Carmody?”

Jack hung his head a little as she could see his ears redden. “...yes,” he said shyly, “I would never hit her.”

“Does Cinnamon like you?”

Jack looked up sharply at her and his face flushed red. “I dunno. Not any more I think.”

“But I think we have to listen to all......”

“Right,” interrupted Veronica with a knowing smile. “I think it’s pretty clear what has happened here. I’ll have a talk to Jack and I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Well, I’ve actually spoken to Cinnamon’s father. She also comes from a broke ... a single-parent household and he’s available for a meeting late tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, really?” said Veronica unable to take all the growing anger out of her voice. “Is that completely necessary?”

“He was very upset to hear what happened?”

“And I suppose you told him what you thought had happened?”

“I told him what happened because I was told what happened.”

“So you spoke to her father but not to me? That’s funny; I’m sure my mobile number’s on file at the school.”

“As I explained,” said Mrs. Verlarny as her smile became more and more fixed, and her tone less and less tolerant ,“circumstances got in the way of normal procedures.”

“I see, well....”

“Ms. Souter,” said Mrs. Verlarny with a more serious tone, “do you think we could speak in private for a moment?”

“Certainly!” said Veronica over-enthusiastically. “I’ll walk you to the door.” Veronica lifted the woman’s bag from the nearby armchair and draped it over her sloping shoulder. This wasn’t what Mrs. Verlarny expected, Veronica knew, but with her hand gently in the small of her visitor’s back she guided the woman down the hallway. Jack understood that he was meant to stay where he was.

“I don’t think we have a resolution to this as yet,” said Mrs. Verlarny.

“Oh, I think we’re pretty close.”

“So, will you be able to make the meeting tomorrow?” Veronica felt the woman’s resistance through her hand on her spine.

“Let’s see,” said Veronica in her best patronising tone. “Give me your card and I’ll call you in the morning. As you may know, or maybe not, I’m a freelance clinical psychologist so I may have to re-arrange a few appointments. I’ll let you know. OK?” Despite the woman’s resistance they were now at the front door.

Mrs. Verlarny had obviously accepted defeat. “Fine,” she said as she opened her bag and rummaged for a card. “Here's my card. I’ll expect your call then?”

“Good, you do that,” said Veronica, her body almost forcing Mrs. Verlarny out onto the verandah.

“One more thing, Ms. Souter,” said Mrs. Verlarny turning to face Veronica. The look on the woman’s face reflected a mixture of duty, because of her mission; anger, due to Veronica’s obvious patronising tone; and distaste because duty was the stronger. “I’d be neglecting my duty if I didn’t ask this: does Jack often arrive home to an empty house?” And as Veronica was quickly working out how a slap in the face might go down with the school authorities, fate stepped in, just like in a Woody Allen movie, as Veronica saw Rosemary walking towards them through the little front garden.

“Ah,” said Veronica smiling a little too broadly, “the babysitter!”

“Sorry I’m late, Veronica,” said Rosemary coming up to them.

“That’s OK, Rosemary, I just got home myself. This is Ms. Verlarny. She’s from the school, and just leaving”

“Hi,” said Rosemary holding out her hand. “I’m Rosemary Ng.”

“Sorry?” said Mrs. Verlarny frowning as she took her hand.

“Ng,” repeated Rosemary without moving her lips and then seeing the woman’s face wracked with confusion that threatened to become embarrassment, she spelt it out. “En Gee. Ng. It’s Chinese.”

“Of course it is,” recovered Mrs. Verlarny. “Sorry.” And then to Veronica, “I’ll expect your call.”

“That, you can certainly do, Ms. Verlarny.”

Mrs. Verlarny seemed, all of a sudden, racked with yet another distasteful decision. “Look, erm. Sorry, but it’s always best, I find, to get things like this over in the first meeting. I’d like you to call me Daphne but I understand – I understand fully, really! – if you choose not to; separation of responsibilities and all that, but if you choose not to call me Daphne, but contrary to popular usage, I’m married you see, and not ashamed of it - I’m rather proud of the fact actually,” she gave a little hollow laugh, “so I prefer “Mrs” to “Ms” if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” said Veronica with a very friendly smile. “It makes everything so much clearer, Mrs. Verlarny,” said Veronica not caring a hoot if the sarcasm in her voice was noted or not.

“Yes, I think so. I always opt for words with the greatest linguistic weight.”

“How audacious of you!”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Verlarny not sure what Veronica meant so she said, “Bye” and then raced across the little garden, out the gate and across the street - avoiding a barking dog who obviously thought she was running away from something - and to her car.

“Bye,” called Veronica. Nice dog .

“Bye,” called Rosemary. “Did I arrive too late or in the nick of time?” asked Rosemary with a careful smile.

“Rosemary, your timing was perfect,” said Veronica. “Come inside for a chat,” but it was halfway down the hall that Veronica remembered. “Oh, Rosemary, I’m sorry, but I don’t need you today, my appointment’s been cancelled. I’ll pay you of course. I just forgot to call you.”

“No no, don’t worry, Ms. Souter” said Rosemary politely.

“No, I insist!” cried Veronica. “Especially since your arrival was like a gift from the gods; I’ll explain all that in a minute. Please come through.”

As the women settled into the kitchen with coffee and tea - Jack must have gone to his room, Veronica felt a feeling of camaraderie with this young girl that was new to her; spurned on, no doubt, by Rosemary’s arrival playing into Veronica’s hands in her attempt to deal with Mrs. Verlarny. She insisted that Rosemary call her Veronica: she knew this was being a little rash – Rosemary was only sixteen – but she had suddenly warmed to the girl, like a team does when a new player scores a goal and wins the game.

After explaining what went on with Mrs. Verlarny she added while spooning two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, “I don’t know where Community Relations Offices get their training but I think Mrs. Verlarny should go back and try again.”

Rosemary wasn’t used to criticising adults, that was something she would learn as she grew older and relied less on her Chinese background, so she just smiled and sipped her coffee. Veronica was forced to continue.

“Now that you’re here, Rosemary, I’d like to ask you something about Jack.”

“Sure, Ms. Sou – Veronica.”

Veronica knew exactly what it was she wanted to know, Does Jack understand the work I do? but finding the words to ask a sixteen year old Chinese-Australia was, she now realised, virtually impossible. “Well, erm...has Jack said anything about, erm, me, or my work, or school, or anything really?” The question was so watered down that Veronica wondered what it meant herself.

“Well,” said Rosemary with care, “he thinks you’re a bit messy and that you have too much stuff.”

“Oh, does he, indeed? He said that?”

“Well, not words; Jack has a way of making you understand things by the tone of his voice.'

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”

“And he is the neatest boy I’ve ever met.”

“Yes, I worry about that sometimes.”

“No, it’s good!” exclaimed Rosemary. “I have brothers. I know. Neat is good.”

“But shouldn’t boys be messy?”

“Should they? I don’t know. But he is proud of your work.”

“What?!” Veronica didn’t expect her to get to the point, her own point, so soon.

“Yes. He said something about how you help people; you go to their homes, not like other doctors.”

“I’m not a doctor,” said Veronica quickly.

“No, I know that, but maybe he was using that as an example: you go to them, they don’t come to you.”

“Oh, I see. Did he say anything else?” asked Veronica trying not to sound too eager.

“No, only that you don’t talk much about your work, but he understands that: he knows you can’t talk about your patients.”

“Patients? Did he use that word?”

“Yes, he did,” said Rosemary and then as if she had always wanted to ask her next question, she said weakly, “are they?” Veronica looked sharply at the girl and could instantly see how hard it was for her to ask an adult a question like that. Was she growing away from her cloistered and strict Chinese family or was she just growing up?

“Well, in a way,” said Veronica. “I like to call them clients. I’m a psychologist so I don’t treat the health of their bodies, I treat the health of their minds, their behaviour, their idea of themselves and how they fit and operate in the world.” She liked her off-the-cuff description but what still worried her was what she had not said, and could not say.

"I see. Yes,” said Rosemary. And Veronica could see how her words were forming a meaning in the young girl’s mind and a meaning that she understood and seemed pleased with.

“Good,” said Veronica with a smile and an understanding that the conversation was over.

“Thanks for the coffee, Veronica. I’m not allowed to drink coffee at home.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you know, old fashioned parents who think coffee is too stimulating for a girl.”

“Are they that strict? You poor thing.”

“Oh there’s no need to feel sorry for me. They love me and I love them but” and she leant forward conspiratorially, “I have my strategies.”

The two women laughed knowingly at each other, but Veronica was not quite sure that their understandings matched. Rosemary left and Veronica, remembering Jack’s comment about her tidiness, rinsed the cups and put them on the draining rack. Jack was in his room and Veronica decided a talk was in order. As she walked to his room she realised that it had been weeks, months, since she had been in his room. She knocked on his door.