Scarlett said, “We should tell the other kids, too. Like a presentation.”
“Good idea,” Zane said. “It’s a team effort, and everybody in the team needs to know their role.”
“What’s your role, Dad?” Scarlett asked.
Zane looked over his rather messy list. “Right now, to rewrite this and tape it up better, because it’s going to stay here. And on Tuesday, I reckon my role is to …” He stopped.
“To help wash all the sheets and towels,” Finlay said, “and then to help us re-make the beds with clean sheets. That’s a separate thing, so you should add it. It’s heaps of work, and doing big beds is harder. Also bunk beds. Mum did Georgia’s top bunk when we stayed here before, because you have to be tall and to balance. I don’t think she should be balancing.”
“Right,” Zane said, and added it at the bottom of the list. “I’ll also put myself down for going to the shops and getting anything that’s been forgotten, or anything special your mum wants. And for picking up a takeaway for dinner. Chinese, I think.”
“Or kebabs,” Finlay said.
“We’ll vote,” Zane said. “Everybody will deserve a takeaway after we do all this. A takeaway every Tuesday. That works for me.”
Skylar couldn’t stand it anymore. Too many feet on the stairs, and too many voices. What was going on out there? Also, nobody had brought her that cup of tea, and she wanted it. She headed back out to the dining room.
It looked like a boardroom, with Zane as the CEO. He had two big sheets of paper taped to a wall and was holding forth. All he needed was a laser pointer to complete the picture.
He stopped when he saw her, though, and said, “We’re not ready for you yet.”
She didn’t answer. That was because she was reading the list. And starting to cry.
Zane was there in an instant, his arm going around her as he walked her to a chair and sat her down in it. He crouched beside her, held her hand, and asked, “What? Oh, bugger. I forgot your tea.”
“I’ll make it,” Scarlett said, and stood.
“You—” Skylar said, waving an arm. “You?—”
The other kids had crowded around her now, anxiety on their faces. Finlay said, “Why won’t anybody tell me what’swrong?You never cry. Is it because you have cancer?”
She waved a hand in front of her face. “Get me a box of tissues, please?”
More fuss for the next couple of minutes, after which she had her cup of tea before her and had blown her nose and was saying, “I interrupted you. It’s just so … sosweetof you to do this. All of you. And totally unnecessary. I’ll be fine. Of course I can go to the shops and do the washing! I may need some help hanging things out, but I can?—”
“No,” Finlay said, “because we already arranged it.”
“But we need jobs too,” Duncan said. “Olive and I areeight.”
“You have jobs,” Scarlett said. “You’re doing the washing-up at breakfast and lunch.”
“And helping to fold laundry,” Finlay said.
“You don’t have anybody for putting away groceries,” Olive said. “Even if you order them, they still have to be put away. Duncan and I could be in charge of that. If we don’t know where everything goes, Mum, maybe you could tell us. You could sit down to do it, and after a few times, we’d probably know.”
“And George and I could read you stories, Skylar,” Georgia said. “If you needed to rest.” Which was about the sweetest thing Skylar had ever heard.
“You also don’t have anybody for Snowball,” Duncan said. “Olive and I can do that, too. We can feed him, and also clean his litter box.”
“Nowthat,”Skylar said, “I have no objection to relinquishing. Thank you. But really, this is?—”
“What your kidsandmy kids want to do,” Zane said. “To help you for the rest of the holidays, and then for your first couple of weeks once term starts. As you’ve done so much for them. Whanau strong, eh.” Which made Skylar cry again. Stupid hormones.
Scarlett said, “I didn’t realize how much you did, all the weekends when Dad was gone, until we wrote it all down, but it’s heaps. And cooking school, too. And in Wellington. Plus, there are six of us to do things, plus Nan and Mr. Bulstrode, and Dad when he’s back, so it’s not really that much work for anyone, as long as Finlay and I supervise right and everyone does their bit. If Nan doesn’t want to cook some night, even, I could probably do it.”
“Or you and I could do it together,” Finlay said. “As long as it wasn’t something very hard. We could probably do burgers.Those are easy. But you never answered me to say what’s wrong, Mum. You didn’t even say when I asked you if it was cancer!”
“It’s not cancer,” she said. “I told you, I had an obstruction.”
