15
Aftermath
Kyla having been returned to the bosom of her loving family, Harriet had almost six peaceful weeks on her own after the trip before her relatives arrived for the Christmas holidays.
The immediate pre-Christmas period was enlivened by Trisha’s burning an unsolicited quiche in Harriet’s “horrible oven”, by Trisha’s discovery that Harriet was (a) “living in rags” and (b) hadn’t “done anything to this place!”, by Trisha’s purchasing some unsolicited ready-made curtains for the main bedroom and forcing Steve to hang them, and by Trisha’s hysterics when Steve accidentally dislodged a gecko when he was pulling back the said curtains two mornings later. It hadn’t even landed on her, it had only landed on the foot of the be— “All right! I’ll get rid of it! …Jesus, it’s only a harmless gecko!” Like that.
Fortunately he had the sense to lie when she asked him if he’d killed it.
It did get worse, yeah, because Harriet “hadn’t really been planning anything much” for Christmas dinner—was the woman demented? How long had she been Trisha’s sister? Steve asked himself groggily as his jaw sagged—and so Trisha had to do everything herself. The supermarket in the town proved to be hopeless, of course—this was after Harriet’s freezer had been investigated and discovered to contain one kangaroo tail swathed in plastic which didn’t disguise the fact that it still had its “hair” on. Uh—fur, some of Trisha’s family recognised weakly, not correcting her. Apparently Hughie had given it to her. Trisha took a very deep breath. Harriet supposed that really you could just use a recipe for oxtail stew, she was sure there must be one in one of Ben’s old cookb— “Rubbish!” she screamed.
“Not for Christmas,” muttered Harriet, subsiding definitively.
The unsatisfactory local supermarket having failed to produce a turkey or a “decent” ham, Trisha had to fall back on a large hunk of what just looked like a boned leg of ham to her relatives but which was apparently totally unsuitable for baking. Those who hadn’t fancied the thought of the oven on for hours in the swaddling Queensland humidity sagged with relief. All the fruit of course looked stale—and you wanted something more than just mangoes for Christmas, Harrie, don’t be ridiculous! Helpfully Kyla chose a punnet of nice big strawberries. Its bottom and theirs having been inspected, the punnet was rejected bitterly and Kyla crept back into her shell. And there were no cherries! We always have cherries at Christmas! This was ridiculous!
Possibly there were no cherries because this was tropical Queensland, where European fruit did not do well. Also possibly some had been brought in from two thousand K or so further south where they did grow, at least in the hillier, cooler parts that weren’t at sea level, and pounced upon by all the local moos, but no-one pointed this out …
—From The Trials of Harriet Harrison, https://trialsofharrietharrison.blogspot.com
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