All was suddenly clear. ‘That’s Tigger,’ he said in amazement.
‘Of course it’s Tigger.’ Erin nodded and went right back to Tigger-watching. ‘I rang the manufacturer. I hope you don’t mind me using your phone but it was important to get his washing instructions right. They said he’d never dry naturally, even if we hung him out in the sun-he’d go mouldy inside. Their advice was to wash him in soap and water-and you can’t imagine how much soap and water we had to use to get him clean, then squeeze him dry in a towel. We hung him outside in the sun long enough so the fur fabric was dry enough not to shrink, and then we put him in the dryer. But…’
‘But?’
‘But the boys are still a bit anxious,’ she told him. ‘We sat outside with him while he hung on the clothes line and now we thought we’d just stay here and watch.’
‘I see.’ The whole process was crazy. He repressed the grin, though. One look at the little boys’ faces was enough to make that easy. Then he looked at the dial. It had twenty minutes to go. ‘How long have you been here?’ he asked. Sitting watching tumble dryers going around ad infinitum was hardly his idea of a great afternoon’s entertainment.
‘An hour and a half. He should be almost done.’ Erin had a twin on either side of her and she hugged them hard. She was acting like she had all the time in the world and this was the world’s most pressing problem. ‘And he’s doing just fine.’
It might just as well be television’s
‘He doesn’t like it in there,’ Henry whispered, and Tigger’s eyes flashed past the glass again. Matt almost had to pinch himself back to reality. Good grief! This was a stuffed animal, yet the tremor in Henry’s voice had him imagining agony within.
Twenty minutes to go…
‘I brought back ice-creams,’ Matt said helpfully, but no one moved.
‘I’ll fetch them, shall I?’
‘That’d be great,’ Erin told him, but all eyes were on the glass. They had no time for him at all.
If anyone told Matt he’d spend twenty minutes watching a stuffed animal go round and round in a tumble dryer-and almost enjoy it-he would have said they were crazy, but that was just what happened next.
He placed a chocolate ice-cream in the twins’ hands, gave one to Erin and settled back with his. He should have brought popcorn, he thought. He hadn’t realised they were into movie-watching.
They certainly were. There was hardly a word spoken. Every ounce of the boys’ concentration was directed at Tigger-as though by watching him they could get him through this ordeal.
They were amazing kids, Matt thought, and began to see what Erin was fighting for. Once you had the loyalty of these two, you’d have it for life. They licked their ice-creams, but they licked them absently and one flicker of doubt that things weren’t well in the Tigger department and the ice-creams would have been abandoned. There was no doubt of that at all.
The ice-creams demolished, Tigger spun on and on, and then the timer clicked off. Tigger thumped three more times around the drum and Erin opened the door.
‘He might be hot,’ Erin warned but, hot or not, they’d waited long enough. The twins had him out of there and were checking him from snout to tail.
‘He’s perfect,’ William breathed.
He wasn’t, actually, Matt thought, looking at the battered toy that had seen years of loving service. Patches of Tigger’s fur were completely worn off, his eyes were decidedly crooked, there was a piece missing from one ear and a bit of stuffing was coming out of his rump.
‘Absolutely perfect,’ Erin agreed, grinning from ear to ear. ‘And I’ve never seen him so clean.’ She poked the stuffing back into his rump. ‘Wasn’t it clever of Mr McKay to save him? I’ll sew his bottom up tonight but meanwhile…’
‘Meanwhile, now he’s fixed, can we see the farm?’ Henry said, bounding up and turning pleading eyes from one adult to another. With Tigger restored to glory, things were obviously okay in his world and he was ready to move on.
‘Yes, please,’ breathed William, and Matt looked into their combined eyes and could no sooner deny them than fly.
Plus Erin was watching.
‘Haven’t you been outside yet?’ he asked.
‘Apart from sitting under the clothes line, no. We had to fix Tigger first,’ Erin told him, as if he was a little bit thick for not realising it. ‘But now Tigger’s better so maybe we can explore. If it’s okay with you, Mr McKay?’
Okay?
Of course it was okay, and suddenly Matt was very, very pleased that they hadn’t explored without him. He very much wanted to show off his farm to this woman.
And these boys, he told himself hastily. Not just Erin.
Of course not just Erin.
‘What have you done with Charlotte?’
They were walking across the yard toward the machinery shed. The boys were whooping ahead, the traumas of the night before forgotten completely as Tigger circled victoriously above Henry’s head.
‘She’s gone home to make dinner for me.’
‘I see.’ Erin didn’t see. She was feeling acutely uncomfortable in her ghastly crimplene, but there was nothing else for her to wear. At least she had her own sandals, she thought gratefully. The twins hadn’t even got those, and were now wearing wellingtons two sizes too big.
‘I was supposed to be going there for dinner last night,’ Matt said, and he also was feeling uncomfortable. After all he’d asked Charlotte to do in town, and the effort she’d put into doing it, he’d felt obliged to accept her dinner invitation.
There was also the issue of the little velvet box…
Whatever he decided about that damned box, he
‘Tom Burrows is coming out to see you,’ he told Erin, and if his voice was a bit too gruff she appeared not to notice.
‘Tom?’ Tom was the director of the homes and Erin could only be grateful. She needed his advice ‘You saw him in town?’
‘I went to find him,’ Matt said. ‘He has heaps to do, you understand, but he said he’d bring pizza out from town at about six. He says he needs time to talk to you and that seemed the best way. He’s caught up with insurance assessors until then but he wants to…’ Then he caught his breath. ‘Uh, oh.’
The machinery shed door was open. The twins had darted in and they were up on the tractor before Erin and Matt reached the door. Matt could only feel the keys in his pocket and think gratefully that nothing worked without those keys.
Unless…
They weren’t old enough to have learned hot-wiring? he thought uneasily, and Erin looked up at his face and grinned. She really was a mind reader.
‘No, they don’t know how to hot-wire machinery. You know, they’re not as bad as they’re painted. It’s just that they’re two active, enquiring little boys, they haven’t had the supervision they’ve needed in the past, and they need to be kept busy.’
‘So my tractor is safe?’
‘I didn’t say that exactly,’ she admitted-and grinned. ‘Keep your keys locked up.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He smiled down at her, and something stirred within. She looked ridiculous, he thought, as the weird feeling kept right on stirring within his chest. Crazy in her oversized crimplene and curls that he suspected would tangle two minutes after brushing.
