Page 50 of Special Delivery
‘Lucky I didn’t wear my leggings,’ said James with a smile, and Poppy felt a rush of fondness, as though she’d known he was going to say that. She hurriedly pushed the thought away.
Poppy showed Harper around the cabin—somewhat pointlessly, given they all had the same floorplan. ‘Here are thebottles and the dummies. I’ve sterilised everything, so you don’t have to worry about that, and her toys are here if she gets a bit grumbly, and her nappies are here, and I’ve written a list of what calms her down. And here’s my phone number. You won’t need to bath her, but all her moisturisers and things are in the cabinet in the bathroom. I don’t think you’ll need them, but it’s probably good to know …’
Harper smiled. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine.’
‘Okay …’ said Poppy. She had nothing else to say. She picked up Maeve, held her tightly and kissed the crown of her head. ‘Bye, my precious girl. I’ll miss you.’
‘I’ll take good care of her,’ said Harper, prising her gently from Poppy’s arms. ‘You just relax.’
Poppy’s insides were a tightly coiled spring. She was leaving her only child with a teenager in a cabin with paper-thin walls. It would probably blow over in a strong wind! It could burn down! There could be a snake in here somewhere (the oven?!). There could be murderers in this campground. Come to think of it, this was the perfect setting for a true-crime documentary.
‘Ready to go?’ asked James, placing a light hand on her shoulder.
His touch startled her, yanking her back to the present. Harper was cooing at Maeve, whose eyes were flickering delightedly over the teenager’s dangling earrings.
Poppy picked up her phone from the bench and nodded. ‘I’m only a phone call away,’ she reminded Harper, who bobbed her head, smiling.
Outside, the cool sunset air tickled the skin between her ankle socks and leggings. The gum trees were black etchingson a neon sky. They trudged down the gravel path in silence and Poppy pulled the cuffs of her jumper over her fingers. She hoped Maeve wouldn’t do a poo—she hadn’t reminded Harper that the nappies had to be put on with the picture of the monkey on the front, not the back. That could be confusing. She looked behind them to check how far they’d walked. Should she quickly run back and tell her? She checked her phone. No reception to text her. Damn.
‘Just over there,’ James said, pointing to a cluster of chairs and utes around a campfire by the water’s edge. Legs dangled from the open ute trays and the tune of Keith Urban’s ‘Somebody Like You’ floated across the breeze. The surface of the dam reflected the pink and gold of the sky.
Poppy looked back at the cabin. She could say hi to everyone and then jog back and tell Harper. That would be the polite thing to do, right? She couldn’t make James wait here-but-not-quite-there while she faffed about.
‘Hey guys!’ called Kate, swinging down from the tray of a Ford Ranger. ‘Drinks?’ She opened an esky and pulled out a Carlton for James and something pink and bottled for Poppy.
‘Guava Cruisers?’ exclaimed Poppy, taking the bottle and turning it over in her hands. ‘Is this the 2000s?’
‘They still sell them!’ quipped Kate gleefully. ‘You have to admit, theyaredelicious—and super convenient in removing the burden of drinking wine from plastic cups.’
James snorted. ‘Because that is such a burden, sis.’
‘Shut up, Jimmy boy, I know you love a guava Cruiser. You’d be drinking them too if you weren’t trying to impress.’
‘I’m fine for anyone to see me drinking Cruisers. I just don’t want to deal with the pink teeth and bad dancing that seem to follow.’
‘Dancing?’ asked Poppy. She had the distinct impression that Kate and James were having a whole conversation beyond their actual words.
‘I can confirm dancing is inevitable,’ said Kate. ‘You should see these young kids once the sun goes down. Everyone’s an Usher. Or a Bieber. Or whoever’s dancing for the kids these days. Don’t ask me, I still have the 2009So Freshalbum in the car. Let’s sit down and chat before we get interrupted. I want the uncensored labour story.’
Kate steered Poppy to a tartan blanket covering the back of a ute and they sat down. Poppy glanced back towards the cabin. When would be a good time to jog back? Maybe in the dark, so her neurotic mothering wouldn’t be so obvious? She probably had forty minutes until Maeve’s bowels kicked in. She checked her watch.
‘Cheers,’ sang Kate. ‘To sunsets and teenage babysitters.’
‘… Cheers,’ Poppy agreed after a pause, willing herself not to look back at the cabin.
‘You don’t need to worry about Maeve,’ Kate assured her. ‘Harper is a pro. Nothing phases her.’
‘I was thinking I might pop back …’
‘Noooo! That would be a waste of energy and important socialising time. What are you worried about? Harper not knowing Maeve needs to sleep on her back? Or which way the nappy goes on? Or how long the bottle needs in the microwave? I promise you, she knows it all.’
Far out, thought Poppy.I didn’t tell Harper half that stuff. I already failed and I didn’t even realise!
‘Don’t worry,’ Kate repeated. ‘Being a new mum is the best experience you’ll ever have—but also kind of the crappest, so when you have access to a free babysitter and deliciously fizzy bottled cocktails, you need to seize those opportunities.’
The music was slowly cranked louder, and as dusk settled into night the ute’s headlights were turned on, casting a hazy glow across the campfire. Poppy curled her toes in her sneakers and angled her face towards the warmth of the flames.
The dust, the fire, the flannelette, the hands scrunched into rugby jumpers warding off the cold, everyone drinking cans of beer and pre-mixed rum—Poppy hadn’t seen this world in forever. It made her feel young again and, simultaneously, ridiculously old.
