Previously on Daily Cereal, a whole heap of stuff happened … but in a nutshell: Maya came home with an axe, a policewoman came to the door, Nic did what he was told not to do and ended up handcuffed, knocked out, in the boot of car, in Wrights Hill, in a cemetery and now, finally, standing on Park Road, Miramar, Nic sees his mum drive off home to the house with no door, a bloody axe and a pile of dodgy evidence …
Once upon a time, not so long ago, a beautiful woman called … no. It would be unfair to unveil the mystery of Nic and Maya’s mum. Or rather Mum. She has mastered the fine art of anonymity, it would be cruel to break that now … and I don’t want to get on her bad side.
She turns into her home street, seat belt buckled, indicator blinking a full three seconds before she makes her turn.
She drives past a police vehicle, inside at the wheel sits a sleeping Jenn. Nic and Maya’s Mum smiles (you however scratch your head, click over to the Daily Cereal tab and go back a few episodes, but didn’t she …).
She pulls her car into the driveway and climbs out. She walks up the path. The street is quiet, the door is rightfully back in it’s frame, the sari assassins are efficient.
She opens the door of her home and goes in. She walks around the house, and into the garden. Sitting in the grass is an axe, dirty with age and stained with tree sap, but nothing more, she goes upstairs into her children’s rooms – shaking her head at the mess … She goes into her room, it is immaculate. She picks up a few photos from the table and puts them into her handbag. She goes down stairs and sets up an ironing board near the curtains in the lounge and starts to iron a couple of Maya’s shirts. Half way through she stops, leaves the iron on the shirt and steps out of the room. She walks out of the front door, making sure she still had her handbag and keys. She checks the time, climbs into her car and drives off.
Jenn wakes up. Her head aches something rotten. What happened last night? She tries to recall … her memory tells her that she was sent her after a neighbour complained about a … intruder? That’s right, reckoned it was an axe or something silly like that … Then how did she fall … she better call in. She picks up her RT, which looks a bit shinier than normal and calls in.
Static Voice: Where the hell have you been?
Static Voice: Get back here now!
Jenn: I just, I mean, I don’t know …
Static Voice: You don’t know, you’ve woken up in your car with everything on you and you don’t know? How about I tell that to the officers I have looking for you!
Jenn: Er …
Static Voice: In my office now!
Jenn gives an angry look to the RT and then gives it the fingers. She starts up her car, indicates, and pulls away from the kerb.
That street in Miramar, the one of your choosing (but ultimately one off Park Road), is still. A couple of kids are cycling down, someone is delivering The Wellingtonian and the odd car drives through taking a short cut to some where else.
And very faintly, way in the background of all other daily noises, there’s a sound of a smoke alarm.
© Sonal Patel, 2007.