Truly Madly Guilty

There was to be an Information Morning in August. Two months away. It was 'compulsory' for all students and 'both parents' to attend. Compulsory. Tiffany felt her hackles rise at the email's officious tone and quickly closed it. She wasn't going to fit in at this place. She felt a real resistance to attending the Information Morning and even a certain level of nerves. As soon as she registered the feeling as fear she was disgusted with herself. Furious. She snapped the laptop shut, refusing to even think about it. It was Sunday. They had the day free. She had a huge week ahead of her.

'Good book?' she asked Dakota.

'What?' said Dakota. 'I mean, pardon?'

Tiffany said, 'I love you, Dakota.'

Long pause. 'What?'

The front door banged. There was a mark on the wall from where Vid threw it open each time he came into the house as if he were making a grand return from an epic journey.

'Where are you, women?' he shouted.

'Where you left us, you peanut!' Tiffany called back.

'I am not a peanut! Why do you keep calling me that? It doesn't even make sense! Now listen to me, I have news!' He came in swinging his rolled-up paper like a baton. He looked en

ergised. 'I just invited the neighbours over for a barbeque. Ran into Erika in the street.'

'Vid, Vid, Vid.' Tiffany rested her head on her hand. 'Why would you do that?'

Erika and Oliver were nice enough but they were so freaking shy and serious. It was hard work. It was better to invite them over when other people were going to be there so you could pass them on when you got tired of all the seriousness.

'You promised we'd have just one Sunday relaxing,' she said.

She had such a busy week ahead of her: a property going to auction on Tuesday night, a fight with a local council at the Land and Environment Court on Wednesday, and a painter, a tiler and an electrician (well, Vid) were all waiting on her to make decisions. She needed a break.

'What are you talking about? That's what we're doing! Relaxing on this beautiful day!' protested Vid, looking genuinely puzzled. 'What's more relaxing than a barbeque? I'm going to call Drago. Organise a pig. Oh, and their friends are coming. Remember the cellist? Clementine. Clementine and her husband. What was his name?'

'Sam,' said Tiffany, perking up. She'd liked Sam. He had that short, broad-chested blond surfer boy look she used to go for before Vid, and he was funny and easygoing. They'd met them just the once when Erika and Oliver hosted Christmas drinks at their place last year. That had been such a strange night. Vid and Tiffany had never been to a drinks party like it. All these people standing about, talking so quietly, as if they were in a library or church. One woman was drinking a cup of tea.

'Where's the food?' Vid kept whispering too loudly to Tiffany while Oliver and Erika seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time worriedly wiping down already clean kitchen benchtops with dishcloths, as if to make it clear their guests were making a mess but they were on top of it. It had been such a relief when they got introduced to Clementine and Sam. Vid, who loved classical music, had been so excited to learn that Clementine was a cellist, it was almost embarrassing, but then Tiffany and Sam got talking politics and had an enjoyable argument. (He was a bleeding heart but she forgave him that.) 'Do you think we could order a pizza?' Sam had whispered at one point and Vid had roared laughing, although then they all had to stop him from pulling out his mobile phone and actually ordering one. Clementine found a chocolate bar in the bottom of her handbag and surreptitiously divided it up among the four of them while poor Erika and Oliver were busy polishing their benchtops. It was like they had all been marooned on a desert island, and had done what they could to survive.

'They've got two little girls,' said Vid.

'I remember they said they had little kids,' said Tiffany. 'Cutesy little names.'

'I don't remember their names,' said Vid. 'Anyway, Dakota can play with them, you know, can't you, Dakota?' He looked hopefully at Dakota.

'Uh, guys, there's someone at the front door,' said Dakota, without looking up from her book, as Barney, eyes alert, lifted his head from her arm and leaped to the floor, where he ran around in circles, yapping delightedly. Barney liked guests nearly as much as Vid.

Someone was thumping over and over again on the front door, ignoring the doorbell.

'You didn't invite them right this very minute, did you?' said Tiffany. 'Shh, Barney. Vid, did you?'

Vid was standing at the pantry, pulling out ingredients. 'Of course I did not,' he said distractedly, although he was perfectly capable of doing that.

Tiffany went to answer the door, Barney zigzagging excitedly in front of her and almost tripping her up. She found Harry, the old man who lived next door, standing on the front porch, glowering at her, as usual, in his normal outfit of old grey suit trousers (from his old job maybe?) and a white business shirt going yellow around the collar. White tufts of hair spurted from the top button of his shirt. He had white bushy eyebrows just like Barney.

'Hello, Harry,' said Tiffany, smiling as nice a smile as she could muster, while thinking, And how have we freaking well offended you today, my elderly friend? 'How are you?'

'This keeps happening!' shouted Harry. 'It's unacceptable!' He handed her a letter addressed to Vid. 'I've spoken to you about it before. I don't want your mail. I shouldn't have to deliver your mail. It's nothing to do with me.'

'It's the postman, Harry,' said Tiffany. 'He accidentally put it in the wrong letterbox. It happens.'

'It's happened before!' said Harry belligerently.

'Yes, I think it did happen one other time,' said Tiffany.