A flash of movement by the front window catches my eye as I turn towards it. I make my way over to the sofa and settle down, glass of water in one paw, ignoring the giggles coming from the other side of the wall. I’ve been here three days, and every single one of those the Thompson kids - and their friends as well - have been spying on me through the living room window. I can hear their excited whispered conversations. They find everything I do fascinating. It’s rather strange to be the centre of attention like this; as something entirely unfamiliar. At least they find it cool, not scary or weird.
I grab my tablet and open the window. They gasp at being caught again.
“Don’t you guys have school to get to?”
“We were so quiet, how did you know?” Max wails.
“I have very, very, very good hearing. But also, you weren’t very quiet. Even Sandwich could hear you giggling.”
“Now that’s not fair,” grumbles Jen, “bearded dragons have very good hearing, actually.”
“Go on, off to school with you,” I chuckle, shooing them away.
I enjoy the sun on my face as they run off laughing. Cellum’s at work, returning to their normal job as a therapist, so I have the house to myself. I’m yet to venture out and explore the neighbourhood. I don’t quite feel ready to be among the general public yet.
I’ve chatted with Richy over the garden fence, after retrieving a ball that the kids kicked over accidentally - a regular occurrence, I am assured. Ze’s a writer, and works from home, which means ze can pick Max up from preschool at lunchtime. The school is nearby - I often hear the lunch break craziness of a hundred children’s games all at once - so George and Jen walk him there in the mornings.
“You should write an autobiography,” ze said, “I bet tons of people will find it interesting. Such a unique experience, it has great story potential.”
I just laughed and shook my head. I have no way with words. My place is the wilderness, somewhere I can map. Though, with GPS getting big, cartographers are required less and less.
Right now, I’m looking for jobs I can do easily at home without having to talk to anyone, and currently writing a book seems like the best option. If I do manage to find one, I lack the qualifications and experience they want. Honestly I’m not even sure what’ll happen when I go to an interview. This may all be a wild goose chase, but I want to help Cellum, who’s suddenly having to provide for another, very big, mouth. They said I don’t have to, not to worry, but suddenly freeloading after years of supporting a family is not sitting well with me.
I also want something to do. I hate to sit idle, always want to be ‘upping and doing’, as Alys used to say. She was perfectly content to sit for hours watching the birds and painting them, while Jessie and I would go on long walks, ‘discovering’ paths and tracks. I long to go out and explore again, but the fear of what others will think is holding me back. I didn’t think that even bothered me, before.
But that was before, I guess. Things are different now.
Sandwich stares reproachfully at me from the tank. Or maybe he’s just absently looking in this direction, I don’t know. Either way, the feeling of a lizard’s eyes on my back gets the message across; I should face my fears and get out of here. Just a walk up the street and back.
Resolve strengthened (and slightly creeped out by Sandwich’s stare), I put my tablet away, grab the spare keys, and set off.
I make it to the end of the driveway. There I meet Eda coming in the other direction, tin in hand.
“Oh sorry dear, were you going somewhere? I was just bringing you some cake, it’s a new recipe and I wanted you to try it.”
I hastily pull my tablet back out. “It’s not a problem. I was thinking of going for a walk but it’s not urgent. Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you, that would be lovely. Cake is nothing without tea alongside.”
Relieved, I let Eda in and put on the kettle. As she settles into the sofa, I crack the lid of the cake tin.
“It smells heavenly, Eda.”
“Of course it does, dear, I made it,” she says with a wink.
I laugh and hand her her tea, and a slice of cake each.
“No tea for you?”
“I can’t. Caffeine isn’t good for dogs, so I doubt it’ll be good for me.”
“Of course. I had a dog, you know.”
Eda talks and I listen. Tea and cake with her is excellent. My walk can wait.
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