Meanwhile, Melodie was lifting entreating hands to the ceiling. 'I embody sanguinariness,' she announced, having a touch of trouble with the pronunciation. 'I am slaughterous, I am-'
'Mortiferous,' said Fran.
'I am mortiferous.' Melodie bowed her head, then sank gracefully to her knees.
' 'Strewth,’ ' I said, 'the audience will need to bring their dictionaries along.'
Fran, who never took kindly to even a hint of criticism where her husband was concerned, snapped, 'Quip is deliberately forcing the audience to surrender to the cadence of the language without necessarily fully understanding what the words mean.'
'I was talking to Quip this morning,' said Melodie, 'to get his thoughts on the essential core of Lucy-Lucas. He explained how
'I reckon it's a bit of a challenge starting off as Lucy and ending up as Lucas,' I remarked.
'For some, it would stretch their talent too thin.' Melodie smiled complacently. 'Fortunately, that doesn't apply to me.'
'I'm sure Quip's play is very profound,' I said to Fran, 'but it's a bit beyond me.'
For Fran, her smile was quite kindly. 'Don't feel too badly, Kylie,' she said. 'Quip's work is a challenge to an educated American. Being an Aussie, you don't have the cultural references to decode, so yes, you're right. It is quite beyond you.'
TWELVE
I sat in my office staring at the phone. I'd had a hard day, and dealing with my mother was going to be a challenge, to say the least. Perhaps I'd wait until after I'd spoken with Ariana about my experiences at UCLA. And Lonnie had left a note on my desk saying he had found something interesting, so I could postpone the call until after I'd seen him. Or I could read the bunch of brochures on garden sheds that Fran had left in a neat pile for my attention.
But then, I'd be dreading making the call, so it was preferable to get it over with. Mum had a dich6 for every occasion. Right now I could hear her saying 'Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today,' followed by 'Strike while the iron is hot.' I sighed and picked up the receiver.
Before punching in the international code and the country number for Australia, I rehearsed what I would say. The plumbing emergency should be over, leaving my mum to concentrate on getting me home from the hellhole she imagined Los Angeles to be. And freeway shootings and Oscar's brush with death would provide her with fresh ammunition.
I had some responses ready. 'Now, Mum,' I'd say persuasively, the moment the random shootings came up, 'statistics show I've got much more chance of winning the lottery than being shot on a Southern California freeway.'
No, maybe that wasn't the way to go, considering my mum firmly believed she'd win the lottery any day now. 'Got to be in it to win it,' she always said, scanning her fistful of tickets every week.
I considered announcing I'd be more likely to be struck by lightning. But then I remembered Great Uncle Samuel, who was struck by lightning. Of course, he helped this along by standing under the tallest tree on a hill in the middle of a thunderstorm, but that wouldn't put Mum off citing him as an example of the prevalence of lightning strikes.
A jab of guilt stabbed me as I punched in the numbers. Mum loved me and wanted the best for me. Unfortunately, our ideas of what constituted the best for me did not correspond. She was determined on getting me back in Wollegudgerie to help her run the Wombat's Retreat. I was determined to stay here in L.A., learning to be a private investigator so I could pull my weight at Kendall & Creeling.
And to be totally honest, Ariana Creeling provided the most potent reason for me to stay. My heart gave a little leap of joy every time I saw her. I had to admit I was pretty well a hopeless case as far as she was concerned. Even half a chance-hell, a quarter of a chance…an eighth of a chance-that she might fall in love with me was enough reason to stick around.
Thousands of kilometers away in the outback of Australia, the pub's phone began to ring. My mother answered.
'It's Kylie, Mum. What happened with the leak in the hallway?'
'Total disaster. Danny Panopolous has ripped most of the ceiling down. There's plaster everywhere.'
'But the leak's stopped, yes?'
'For the moment,' she said in a deeply pessimistic tone. 'Danny says half the pub's pipes are shot, and need to be replaced.'
'Crikey,' I said.
'And you know how Danny charges like a wounded bull. I shudder to think how much it's going to cost.' I made sympathetic noises: my mum moved into attack mode. 'Jack will never understand the financial side, Kylie. I've said it before, and I'll say it again-he's bloody hopeless. I desperately need you back here at the Wombat.'
'Mum-'
'It's bad enough you're not at home in Australia, but to be living in Los Angeles, of all places! My blood fair curdled when I watched the news the other night. Los Angeles freeways are a shooting gallery! And that nice girl, Melodie, told about your client being mugged-in broad daylight!'
'Mum-'
'It's only a matter of time until something like that happens to you, Kylie-shot on the freeway, mugged, kidnapped, beaten, raped. How do you think I'll feel when your body's discovered?' She gave a disgusted snort. 'And you say you want to stay in L. A.'
'It's not like that,' I protested. 'Sure, you have to be careful, but it's the same in any big city.'
'And that's not all,' said my mother in a voice of doom. 'There's the ongoing possibility of earthquakes, terrorist attacks, and severe climate change. Global warming's not a myth, you know.'
She was beginning to sound more like Fran every moment. I said, 'We keep disaster supplies here in the office.'
'Disaster supplies? Will they protect you from killer bees? I've heard a lot about killer bees.'
I managed to get in 'Killer bees have been blown way out of proportion' before Mum was off again.
'I've been patient, darl-I really have, but now I see it's my duty as a mother to get you out of this situation you've got yourself into.'
This was going too far. My voice icy, I said, 'Decisions about my life are mine to make. I'll always listen to you, Mum, but in the long run, what I do is my affair. I'm sure I'll make mistakes, and if I do I'll pay for them. I won't whinge to you and expect sympathy.'
My mother always knew when to retreat. 'Live to fight another day' was how she usually put it.
There was a hurt silence at the other end of the line, then she said, 'Of course you're absolutely right, Kylie. You have to make your own decisions. I can only hope that you'll eventually see it my way.' A brave laugh. 'I'm sure you think I'm a Nosy Parker, meddling in your affairs, but it's because I love you, darling.'
'I love you too, Mum,' I said dutifully.
For the next ten minutes we chatted about safer topics. My mum even managed to avoid mentioning my ex- lover, Raylene, who'd been the main reason I'd shot through to L.A. Mum's most interesting item was gossip about Aunt Millie, who had lobbed over to the States to see me and had then decided to extend her trip into a world tour.
I lived in constant dread that she would boomerang back to L.A., as she'd had such a bonzer time here, so I was fascinated to learn from Mum that Aunt Millie, who was in Britain at the moment, had taken up with some bloke called Nigel whom she'd met while on a bus tour to Bath.
'I can only hope he doesn't take advantage of my sister,' said my mother.
I guffawed. This would be the equivalent of a frilled lizard taking advantage of a
Mum wasn't amused. 'Anyone can fall for sweet-talking,' she declared. 'Even Millie.'
'My money's on Aunt Millie. She'll eat this Nigel bloke for breakfast. I'm already feeling a bit sorry for
