Mrs. Verlarny with a more serious tone, “do you think we could speak in private for a moment?”
“Certainly!” said Veronica over-enthusiastically. “I’ll walk you to the door.” Veronica lifted the woman’s bag from the nearby armchair and draped it over her sloping shoulder. This wasn’t what Mrs. Verlarny expected, Veronica knew, but with her hand gently in the small of her visitor’s back she guided the woman down the hallway. Jack understood that he was meant to stay where he was.
“I don’t think we have a resolution to this as yet,” said Mrs. Verlarny.
“Oh, I think we’re pretty close.”
“So, will you be able to make the meeting tomorrow?” Veronica felt the woman’s resistance through her hand on her spine.
“Let’s see,” said Veronica in her best patronising tone. “Give me your card and I’ll call you in the morning. As you may know, or maybe not, I’m a freelance clinical psychologist so I may have to re-arrange a few appointments. I’ll let you know. OK?” Despite the woman’s resistance they were now at the front door.
Mrs. Verlarny had obviously accepted defeat. “Fine,” she said as she opened her bag and rummaged for a card. “Here's my card. I’ll expect your call then?”
“Good, you do that,” said Veronica, her body almost forcing Mrs. Verlarny out onto the verandah.
“One more thing, Ms. Souter,” said Mrs. Verlarny turning to face Veronica. The look on the woman’s face reflected a mixture of duty, because of her mission; anger, due to Veronica’s obvious patronising tone; and distaste because duty was the stronger. “I’d be neglecting my duty if I didn’t ask this: does Jack often arrive home to an empty house?” And as Veronica was quickly working out how a slap in the face might go down with the school authorities, fate stepped in, just like in a Woody Allen movie, as Veronica saw Rosemary walking towards them through the little front garden.
“Ah,” said Veronica smiling a little too broadly, “the babysitter!”
“Sorry I’m late, Veronica,” said Rosemary coming up to them.
“That’s OK, Rosemary, I just got home myself. This is Ms. Verlarny. She’s from the school, and just leaving”
“Hi,” said Rosemary holding out her hand. “I’m Rosemary Ng.”
“Sorry?” said Mrs. Verlarny frowning as she took her hand.
“Ng,” repeated Rosemary without moving her lips and then seeing the woman’s face wracked with confusion that threatened to become embarrassment, she spelt it out. “En Gee. Ng. It’s Chinese.”
“Of course it is,” recovered Mrs. Verlarny. “Sorry.” And then to Veronica, “I’ll expect your call.”
“That, you can certainly do, Ms. Verlarny.”
Mrs. Verlarny seemed, all of a sudden, racked with yet another distasteful decision. “Look, erm. Sorry, but it’s always best, I find, to get things like this over in the first meeting. I’d like you to call me Daphne but I understand – I understand fully, really! – if you choose not to; separation of responsibilities and all that, but if you choose not to call me Daphne, but contrary to popular usage, I’m married you see, and not ashamed of it - I’m rather proud of the fact actually,” she gave a little hollow laugh, “so I prefer “Mrs” to “Ms” if you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all,” said Veronica with a very friendly smile. “It makes everything so much clearer, Mrs. Verlarny,” said Veronica not caring a hoot if the sarcasm in her voice was noted or not.
“Yes, I think so. I always opt for words with the greatest linguistic weight.”
“How audacious of you!”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Verlarny not sure what Veronica meant so she said, “Bye” and then raced across the little garden, out the gate and across the street - avoiding a barking dog who obviously thought she was running away from something - and to her car.
“Bye,” called Veronica. Nice dog .
“Bye,” called Rosemary. “Did I arrive too late or in the nick of time?” asked Rosemary with a careful smile.
“Rosemary, your timing was perfect,” said Veronica. “Come inside for a chat,” but it was halfway down the hall that Veronica remembered. “Oh, Rosemary, I’m sorry, but I don’t need you today, my appointment’s been cancelled. I’ll pay you of course. I just forgot to call you.”
“No no, don’t worry, Ms. Souter” said Rosemary politely.
“No, I insist!” cried Veronica. “Especially since your arrival was like a gift from the gods; I’ll explain all that in a minute. Please come through.”
As the women settled into the kitchen with coffee and tea - Jack must have gone to his room, Veronica felt a feeling of camaraderie with this young girl that was new to her; spurned on, no doubt, by Rosemary’s arrival playing into Veronica’s hands in her attempt to deal with Mrs. Verlarny. She insisted that Rosemary call her Veronica: she knew this was being a little rash – Rosemary was only sixteen – but she had suddenly warmed to the girl, like a team does when a new player scores a goal and wins the game.
After explaining what went on with Mrs. Verlarny she added while spooning two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, “I don’t know where Community Relations Offices get their training but I think Mrs. Verlarny should go back and try again.”
Rosemary wasn’t used to criticising adults, that was something she would learn as she grew older and relied less on her Chinese background, so she just smiled and sipped her coffee. Veronica was forced to continue.
“Now that you’re here, Rosemary, I’d like to ask you something about Jack.”
“Sure, Ms. Sou – Veronica.”
Veronica knew exactly what it was she wanted to know, Does Jack understand the work I do? but finding the words to ask a sixteen year old Chinese-Australia was, she now realised, virtually impossible. “Well, erm...has Jack said anything about, erm, me, or my work, or school, or anything really?” The question was so watered down that Veronica wondered what it meant herself.
“Well,” said Rosemary with care, “he thinks you’re a bit messy and that you have too much stuff.”
“Oh, does he, indeed? He said that?”
“Well, not words; Jack has a way of making you understand things by the tone of his voice.'
“Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”
“And he is the neatest boy I’ve ever met.”
“Yes, I worry about that sometimes.”
“No, it’s good!” exclaimed Rosemary. “I have brothers. I know. Neat is good.”
“But shouldn’t boys be messy?”
“Should they? I don’t know. But he is proud of your work.”
“What?!” Veronica didn’t expect
