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<strong>Girgarre</strong> <strong>Gazette</strong> <strong>March</strong> <strong>2023</strong> pg 6<br />
Waiting for the sound of the moving van slowing into the drive … Fiona sat in the chair with her head in her hands –<br />
fed up and tired, surrounded by boxes and cases, disarray everywhere, the kids asleep on the lounge floor. All the important<br />
things – food, drinks, the bags with the kids’ toys and clothes – were in the boot of the old car, all ready to<br />
go. The rest, the detritus of the past two years, would be left for someone else to deal with. This will be the last<br />
time, she reasoned. It’s not fair on the kids.<br />
Her thoughts wandered back to the mothers’ club who met for coffee on Fridays while the kids were at school.<br />
They were just a bunch of cliquey money-grabbers as far as she was concerned, full of phony friendliness. Did they<br />
really want to get to know her? Or did they just think they should? Good manners or something? They were happy to<br />
put her down, sending her off to do the menial tasks.<br />
“Oh, did you walk here, love?” … as if they didn’t know what petrol costs.<br />
“Oh, well – in that case, since you walk past the Tattslotto shop, would you mind buying our QuickPick? Here’s<br />
the money for this week. Everyone puts in their five dollars – you’ve got it, haven’t you?” … delivered in a casual<br />
tone, but making sure everyone could hear.<br />
Fiona had turned and swallowed, hiding the discomfort she felt. Patronising bitch! Why do I come? If it wasn’t<br />
for the kids I wouldn’t … they need other kids to play with. I’m not dumb … smarter than they think. They’ll find out.<br />
Their husbands had good jobs, no worries with money. They didn’t know what it was like to be in and out of<br />
work, always behind in the rent. Anyway, she had let them know leaving Melbourne was on the cards eventually.<br />
Family? … All interstate, she’d told them. It was her standard fall-back line whenever there was a new group to<br />
join. Queensland was far enough away to throw them off the scent — if they ever had to work it out.<br />
The quick getaway was now built into her DNA. After ten years of marriage, mostly on the run, the signs that let<br />
her know it was time to start packing up, ready to sneak off in the dead of night, were a regular occurrence. As<br />
for the prevarication, when it came to fitting in with this group or that, no-one was more expert. Best to keep family<br />
secrets to yourself, as her mother always said. Anyway, this time it was more good luck than anything. Things had just<br />
fallen into place. An opportunity for a new start, too good to miss.<br />
Closing her eyes, she slid back in the chair and let her mind drift. It was always Gray’s fault. He was the one who<br />
gambled – every penny he could get his hands on. That’s what kept them on the run. He couldn’t seem to help himself<br />
– or didn’t want to. Maybe this time things would be different. Maybe this time they could buy a house, get steady<br />
jobs, settle the kids where they could make lasting friends. No more joining groups where they didn’t fit in. Money,<br />
and plenty of it! Makes a difference, doesn’t it? A new start. Somewhere – somewhere no-one could find them.<br />
Enough of this packing up and moving, the money hounds howling not far behind …<br />
Where the hell was he anyway? Still at the club? He must have had a win and think he was on a roll. She<br />
sighed. She knew in her heart he wouldn’t turn up until the money ran out. Damn him to hell and back – it was four in<br />
the morning. He knew they had to pack the truck and be on the road before daylight. It was cutting it too fine, there’d<br />
be a rush now to get loaded and on their way. They didn’t want to be seen.<br />
Suddenly overwhelmed and close to tears, Fiona wondered what excuses he would come up with this time. More<br />
empty promises to change, telling her he loved her and the kids, telling her she couldn’t manage without him. The<br />
same mantra time and time again. She felt cornered, weak – self-loathing and revulsion rising in her throat. Why do I<br />
give in all the time. Why do I believe him?<br />
Fiona sat up, surprisingly clear-headed. The misery of the past few days disappeared. Wake up to yourself. Why in<br />
the name of God am I always doing this? – considering his feelings, always solving his problems, being taken for<br />
granted. I am better than this. The kids deserve more than this. As for those snobby rich bitches – they don’t deserve<br />
me either. Well – they’ve done me a favour treating me as their slave. More fool them leaving me to buy their ticket.<br />
Just what had prompted the decision to buy two tickets this time? The irony of it! It was a crazy punt that had taken<br />
every cent she could find. Now the winnings were in her personal account, not the joint one plastered in red stickers<br />
month after month. But how could she stop Gray sucking hers dry at the first opportunity?<br />
The solution was like a breath of fresh air.<br />
Quickly rousing the children, she herded them into the car. Picking up her phone she rang the removalists.<br />
“Change of plan!” she announced. Ruth Kirkham © <strong>2023</strong><br />
Ruth is a member of the Kyabram Town Hall Writers’ Group. Members are diverse in interests, ages and backgrounds. This makes<br />
for some very interesting and informative discussion while sharing stories, poetry, and the problems of the writer’s craft. The<br />
KTHWs’G has produced a book – Celebrating Women, a collection of original written works and art from the community – a great<br />
GIFT Or SOUVENIR of the area – and is for sale at $20 from the Kyabram Town Hall and online from the writers’ group link on Facebook<br />
and the KTH website: kyabramtownhall.com.au Direct contact: kyabramwritersgroup@gmail.com
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