The new millennium - 1. Chapter 1

You're thick as bricks, Lydia thought as the blade slid through the soft flesh of the carrot, cracked down on the wooden cutting board, and nicked the edge of her ring finger. She unwrapped a band aid and slipped it over the tender tip of her finger. Outside, a flock of seagulls swooped down, the wind rippling their raised feathers as they landed on the thin strip of wire that served as a garden fence.

Once, as a child, her father had caught her helping herself to an extra piece of roast chicken during dinner and slammed the carving knife down on her hand without noticing that the blade was face down. Blood shot out from the wound, glazing the creamy meat in a blaze of crimson. She remembered weeping, her mother wrapping her wounded hand in a tea towel, her father still grumbling that she shouldn't have tried to take chicken without asking even as he got the disinfectant and bandages from the cupboard.

Soft voices came from the lounge, the click of a cricket bat hitting a ball, faint cheers and the sound of the chair squeaking under her husband's weight. Russell would want his second beer soon, and she almost opened the fridge to check there was enough inside, but she stopped when she imagine him rolling his deep olive eyes. You put them all in there when we arrived, don't you remember, dumbo?

She swept the leafy head of the carrot off the board and snipped the rest of it into knuckle-sized pieces. Why knuckles? She looked down at her hands. Curved bone edges poked out through his thin, pale skin, and a puckered, gristly scar ran over the back of her hand. She picked up another carrot. Through the window, the boys ran along the beach, the wind raising their golden hair off their heads like hundreds of tiny fighting snakes. Tom would be thirteen next week, she thought, picking up another carrot. She would have to ask him what he wanted. For a moment, the inner mechanics of video console poking out through busted plastic, prickly with snapped wires, lay in front of her. She had learnt the hard way not to guess what her sons wanted, and Russell had just laughed at her when Malcolm threw the whole gifted game set, box and all, against the wall, bringing down a painting of a snowy mountain she loved and littering the floor with broken glass.

A buzzer sang from the other side of the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her apron, she twirled on her heels and crossed the room, grabbing the oven mitts off a hook. She removed the huge roasting pan from the oven and settled it on the bench. Fat dribbled down over the roasting chicken in thick droplets, rising out of the needle-thin holes where she sunk the cooking fork. Another ten minutes, she thought. She settled the pan back in the oven, set the timer again, then headed back to the carrots.

"We're here," a voice called out from the front door. "Something smells good."

Lydia felt her skin shrivel, tightening against her bones. She hadn't seen them since the wedding.

"How was the drive?" Russell said, and she heard the snap of flesh on flesh as he kissed his cousin.

"We hit a bloody penguin, if you can believe it," Mark said. "Made a bloody mess of the bonnet. There's still a few feathers poking out of the fender."

"What, a real penguin?"

'Of course, a real one," Haley said, and Lydia could hear the strain of lifting the heavy bassinet in her voice. "Why would we tell you about hitting a fake one?"

"I just mean, I didn't know they came ashore around here."

The boys raced past the window. "Uncle Mark, Aunt Haley."

"Heya kids," Mark said. "Where's your Mum?"

Lydia put down the knife. She wished she could drink but Russell had only brought red wine, which gave her heartburn.

"Your uncle killed a penguin," Russell said.

"Cool," Malcolm said.

"Why would you do that?" Tom asked, and she imagined his little lower lip trembling the way it used to do when he was six and in trouble.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Mark said. "Messed up the car, though. I'll give you kids five bucks each if you wash it for me."

Lydia wiped her hands again and headed towards the hallway. Haley turned just as she arrived.
"There you are," she said, smiling and holding up the bassinet. "Look, Jessy, it's your Aunty."

"She's beautiful," Lydia said, staring down at the chubby little face. "Can I hold her?"

"For goodnes's sake, they just got here," Russell snapped from the doorway where he had been watching the cricket. "Get the people some drinks."

"Yes, drinks. Sorry. What would you like, Haley?"

"I could slaughter a Chardonnay," she said, giving her the same dry smile she gave Lydia as they said goodbye after their wedding.

"We only have red," she said, but Haley had gone, following Russell into the lounge.

Outside, the wind had risen, raising whitecaps on the thundering waves, and sweeping through the tall pines with a melancholic whine. Restless cicadas clung to their trunks as they scratched out their fluctuating song. She had always loved those trees with their outstretched branches thin as bones, the way the scent of warmed conifer sap floated off them, intertwining with the aroma of briny ocean-beaten rocks. Lydia hadn't forgiven her, she could tell, and who could blame her? She had drunk little since, but it hadn't helped much because the damage was done. This was the first time Russell had managed to persuade them to join them for New Year, and she knew they'd only agreed because of the location of the house and Russell's refusal of any financial contribution.

Mark stood with his arms crossed, his short hair ruffled by the breeze, and the boys knelt in the sand, staring at the blood-stained number plate. Bloody ends of fluff floated down onto the sand.

"You boys do a good job and I'll make it ten bucks," Mark said, turning towards Lydia. "Hey. Long time no see. How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, giving him a hug.

His body tightened for a moment, then slumped against hers like a sick child, his arms settled gently around her back.

"I was just setting your boys up to help me clean up this little mess," he said, pulling back. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Lydia said, smiling down at the boys. "By the way, you didn't bring any Chardonnay, did you? Russell only brought red."

"Yeah, of course," he said with a cheeky grin. "I said I would. Didn't Russell tell you?"

"No," she said. "But I'm thrilled to hear that. What do you want, a beer?"

"That'd be great. Kids, help your mum get that box of booze out of the backseat."

The boys tugged the box out of the car, and stumbled towards the house, Malcolm deliberately holding it too high so Tom had to push himself onto his tip-toes and jump with little hops to keep up.

"If you drop that lot, I'll wring your necks," Mark yelled after them. "Great kids. They're growing up so fast."

Lydia wanted to say something, but he was gone, his sandaled feet raising dust as he ran after the boys. Was she reading too much into this, she asked herself as she walked back towards the house. It was natural for him to want to follow the kids and keep an eye on the wine. And yet, she felt he could have stayed with her a little longer, or walked back to the house with her, asking questions about this and that, they way adults do when they meet after a long time. The seagulls circled above, their tiny shadows flittering through the longer, more graceful ones thrown down by the pines.

Gravel crackled in the distance, and a horn honked. She turned around just as the BMW plowed over the cattle grating and slammed to a halt next to the other car. Abba flowed out of a cracked side door window, and through the windscreen, three heads bobbed excitedly.

"Lyd Lyd," Tane shouted, jumping out of the car. "Come here, babe."

She gasped as his thick arms sealed her against his hard body. The other car door creaked open and Fu got out.

"Hey you," he said, wrapping his arms around Tane and her body and giving her a gentle kiss. "You look fabulous."

"Thanks," she said, wishing they would back off a bit. "Isn't Lucus going to get out of the car?"

"Lucus. Get out and say hi to your Aunt Lydia," Fu said to the teenage boy sitting in the back seat. "Pronto."

The back door creaked open, and the boy slunk out, his shoulders hunched, music hissing out of the huge black headphones wrapped around his neck.

"Hi Aunt Lydia," the boy said, accepting her hug with the same grace as if it came from a corpse bride.

"You've grown again," she said, and he looked away. "The boys are in the house. Go and say hi, and get a drink."

"Grab your bag first," Tane said. "We're not going to carry it for you."

The boy stopped, turned, and headed back to the trunk of the car.

"He's a bit shitty because we wouldn't let him stay at home alone," Fu said, touching the side of his nose. "I said, you're fifteen. You can come with us or you can stay with your granny and celebrate the new millennium with her watching reruns of Coronation Street."

"He'll be fine," Tane said, watching the boy sling the bag over his shoulder and slouch towards the house. "He likes your sons, he just forgets he does."

"You go inside with Lyds and get us something damn strong to drink, babe, and I'll get the suitcase," Tane said, giving Fu a peck on the cheek.

Fu wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and they headed towards the house. A faint perfume came off him, evoking long afternoons spent drinking Marguerita's and smoking joints on the balcony of their huge Auckland house. She had been unmarried then, thin as a rake, madly and secretly in love with Mark, her best friend's boyfriend. Tane and Fu had tormented her with tragic stories of unrequited love leading to a cat-pee scented old-age. So when Mark and Rose broke up, one night she literally leapt on him from the balcony, sending him sprawling and snapping his collarbone. Over the next three months, he happily received her deliveries of home-made soups and delicate passion fruit sorbets. They married a year later, just about the time Fu's mother-in-law arrived from Taiwan with his baby son. His wife had died suddenly and, unable to contact him, Mrs. Chang had called Fu's parents, and then taken a plane to Auckland with the child in her arms. Neither Lydia nor Tane knew Fu had a wife, but they forgave him because the baby, with its gentle smile and jewel-like eyes instantly stole their hearts.
As they passed the kitchen window, she spotted a tentacle of smoke rising from the oven.

"The chicken," she yelled.

In the kitchen, Russell, Mark and Haley stood around the gruesome, ashy body of the charred fowl sat in the pan.

"I'm so sorry," Lydia cried, rushing between them.

She grabbed at the charcoaled flesh, tugging it off to check for any edible remains.

"Now what the hell are we going to eat?" Russell said, slamming his hand onto the kitchen bench. "The nearest shop is an hour away, and it's already almost six."

"It's alright," Haley said, smiling. "We brought plenty of food."

"What, vegetables and salad? We aren't cows, Haley. I need meat."

"We have sausages and steaks," Haley replied, putting an arm around Lydia. "They were meant to be for tomorrow's lunch, but we can have them now. You boys go and get the barbecue going, and we'll get these in marinade."

Something hot pinched around Lydia's neck and she turned just in time for Russell to land a kiss on her cheeks.

"You're thick as fucking bricks sometimes, love," he whispered as he pulled back.

That was what he'd said on the way home from Mark and Haley's wedding. Well, that and a lot of other things, but that was what had always stuck with her. It had stuck with him, too, it seemed as he had repeated it many times over the last few years, and she had even overheard him chuckling to himself when the boys shouted the same thing at her. To be fair, he had sent the boys to their rooms to think about what they'd done.

She cried the first time he said it, but she also knew that in a way he was right. She had been drunk, but that wasn't an excuse to stand up during the wedding speeches to remind everyone that long ago, cruel landowners had had the right to fornicate with the new wives of the peasants working their land, but that luckily such a tradition no longer existed because she'd heard the hotel owner was a bit of a licentious pig. It had sounded amusing in her alcohol-addled mind, a happy ditty to make people laugh and thank the Lord that times had changed. She remembered the looks of shock on the faces of the other guests, her husband's face sinking into his hands next to her, the bride staring at her as if she were insane. Her face slowly reddened to the colour of bricks as he pulled her down, snatching away her wine.

"Is something burnt?" Tane said, coming into the kitchen with Fu.

"I forgot about the chicken," Lydia said as Haley passed her steaks from the fridge. "We're going to have to eat steak instead."

"No problem for me," Fu said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, who wants a drink?"

                                                           --        -----

Waves crashed in the distance, and a few gulls cawed mournfully as they ducked and dived. The steaks and sausages were gone now, and they sat outside, drinks in hand, as the sky slowly darkened.

"It's so lovely up here," Fu said, sipping his wine. "I had to push Tane to come, though. If we'd gone with his plans, we'd be somewhere over the Pacific sipping Champagne through three time zones."

"Hey, I thought you said you didn't want to do that because it was too expensive," Tane said, plucking potato chips from a bowl.

"I'm not saying it wasn't a great idea, babe, but do you have any idea what jetlag does to my skin?"

"So how long have you two been together?" Haley asked.

"Oh my, it must be coming up on twenty years," Tane said excitedly.

"Oh my God, you're right," Fu screeched, his head bobbing up from his glass of wine. "And you know what that means. Party time!"

"Oh my God, yes, you have to have a party," Lydia said, kicking out her legs. "It'll be just like old times."

"Dads, can you calm down?" Malcolm called from the lounge. "People can hear you in Paris."

"He gets a bit embarrassed when we queen it up," Tane said with a smile. "I thought we raised him better than that, but it seems not."

The orange sun boiled up over a small throng of clouds, and Lydia felt the pain of the afternoon fade as alcohol sluiced through her veins, soaking into her brain, inhibiting the activation of the neurotransmitter glutamate while producing gamma aminobutyric acid and thus slowing her reactions and dulling her mind. She knew this because long ago she had wanted to be a doctor, and had even got accepted into medical school. If it hadn't been for her obsession with Mark and his offer of marriage, not to mention the baby growing inside her, she wouldn't have left halfway through her second year. She didn't hold that against him because in the end it had been her decision. She did hold it against herself, though, especially after a few drinks. More alcohol entered her bloodstream, and she picked up the bottle. It was empty.

"I'm just saying that it must be hard to raise a boy without a mother," Mark said, looking over at Tane and Fu. "I leave Jane totally in Haley's hands."

"We didn't have a lot of say in the matter," Fu replied. "God just thrust the little monster upon us and we took him in."

Mark stood up, stretched, then turned back towards the house.

"At least one person in that family knows how to be a man," he muttered as he walked past Lydia.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm going to take a slash."

"Thanks for sharing," Haley said, and everyone laughed.

"I'm going to get another bottle of wine," Lydia said, standing up too. "Does anything want anything?"

"Bring some of those spicy peanuts," Russell said, yawning.

In the lounge, the boys lounged in front of the TV, video controllers in their hands. Cars swept around a racing course, and the boys hollered as they slammed against each other.

A smell of burnt chicken fat hung in the kitchen as she opened the fridge and took out another bottle of Chardonnay. She filled her glass, slugged it back and filled it again.

"Thirsty?" Mark asked from the doorway.

"Shit," she yelped. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry," he said with a ferocious laugh. "You look really good. Did I tell you that?"

"No," Lydia said, biting her lip and looking down into her glass.

"I'm going to let you in on a secret, Lydia," he said, his voice slurring. "Haley doesn't know this, but I'm leaving her."

"Are you serious? Why?"

"I'm bored," he said, leaning his head back against the door. "We haven't fucked in a year, not since the baby came. She's still carrying too much fat from the pregnancy, anyway. And I've met someone. She's awesome. Her name is Angel. She's Brazilian. Body like her name."

She hadn't seen him drink that much, but now she noticed him swaying from side to side, his mouth slightly ajar. He leaned towards her, his alcoholic breath thick in her face. His lips met hers. Her hands thumped into his chest, sending him flying against the wall. He straightened up, then grinned.

"Man, those two queens out there. Could they be any more fucking in your face?"

Lydia stared at him.

"Watch what you say, Mark," she said, her skin tightening around her jaw. "Those two happen to be my best and oldest friends."

"Some friends," Mark said. "Aren't you worried about having them in the same house as your two boys?"

"Get the fuck out of here," Lydia shouted, swinging her glass at his head.

He ducked, and it smashed against the wall.

"You fucking psycho," he shouted.

Voices rang out from the lounge and then faces appeared at the kitchen door.

"What the hell did you do, Lydia?" Russell shouted, stalking towards her and leaning into her face. "Don't think I haven't been keeping a tab on how much you've been drinking."

"It's not my fault," Lydia said, standing back. "You should have heard the stuff he was saying."

"She's lying," Mark said, his swaying suddenly less obvious. "I came in here to see if she needed help and she went berserk on me."

"You're lying," Lydia shouted back. "You insulted my friends and said you're going to leave Haley. And you tried to kiss me."

"He did what?" Haley yelled, pushing through the boys and grabbing Mark by the arm. "Lydia, I know we've had our problems in the past but this is too much."

"It's true," Lydia whispered.

"Christ, woman, you're thick as fucking bricks sometimes," Russell growled, walking back towards the lounge.

"Thick as fucking bricks, Mum," Malcolm said too, following his father out of the room.

Mark and Haley left too. Tane and Fu rushed in. Tears streamed down her face.

"It's alright, babe," Tane said, cradling her in his arms. "We believe you."

"Does he often talk to you like that?" Fu asked.

"All the time," Lydia whimpered.

"You've gotta leave him," Tane said. "Tonight. We're both a bit sloshed, but Lucus has his restricted licence. He can drive."

"I can't," Lydia said. "Where would I go?"

"Anywhere you want."

"Think about it, babe," Fu said. "We're going to put our stuff in the car. Meet us outside in ten if you decide to come with us."

She stood unmoving, staring out the window at the dark sky punctured by flickering stars.

Outside, a car engine started, and gravel span under wheels. Russell came back into the kitchen, the boys behind him. "I'm fucking sick of defending your actions to my family. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Lydia stared at them.

"I'm leaving you," she said. "All of you. You will never see me again."

She turned and left the room.

"She's bluffing, boys," Russell said. "She'd never leave us."

Lydia stuffed clothes and shoes into her suitcase, then zipped it up. Tugging it behind her, she walked out past the boys.

"Mum?" Tom whispered, following her. "Mum, stop."

"Lydia," Russell called after her. "For goodness' sake, calm down. Let's talk about this."

An owl hooted over the frantic hissing of the cicadas, and a car engine started.

"Mum," Malcolm yelled. "Stop."

Tane pushed her into the front seat and jumped in the back with Fu.

"Drive, Lucus. Now."

The wheels squealed as the car thrust backwards. Through the windscreen, she could just see the shape of her boys on their knees, their heads in their hands. Russell ran towards them, but the car twisted to the left and swung around and come to a halt. The gear stick creaked and then they were moving again, the wire fence that ran both sides of the road glistening in the headlights, a thick slice of moon hanging over the trees.

"Thick as fucking bricks," Lydia thought, watching in the rearview mirror as the blurry outline of her sprinting husband faded into darkness.