Brooke stood up, stretching her strained back and looked proudly upon all her hard work.
She felt the sun, prickling on the back of her neck and was thankful that she'd remembered to thicken on the sun cream.
"There," she thought, wiping the soil from her hands, "that looks a lot better."
The garden was her pride and joy, and everybody who passed by, made comments of approval at Brooke's green thumb.
The only one she really needed to please....
.... was her elderly father.
She looked at her watch and her heart sank.
He'd be here, any time soon.
Brooke kicked off the gardening shoes at the kitchen doorway and sprinted indoors to freshen herself up.
She changed from her usual 'slobs' as she called them, into a pretty outfit, brushing her hair out.
She never put make up on.
It was lost on her father, who disapproved of everything Brooke did.
From as far back as she could remember, he would ritually direct comments of disapproval at her.
"What are you wearing THAT for? It makes you look too fat!"
"You're putting far too much lipstick on. That colour looks as though you've got a gash instead of a mouth."
More recently, it turned into ....
"I can't see how you're ever going to get married if you work all those hours."
"You're working yourself too hard. look how skinny you've become, you'll waste away to nothing if you're not careful."
And his particular favourite....
"I don't know what you see in that Deano Gray, he's trouble I tell you. And what sort of name is Deano, for goodness sake? Why don't you go out with someone nice.... like that Alec Thompson. He's rich, has his own house and is single."
It always ended up with Frank pointing out the obvious.
But Brooke regarded Alec as 'boring' and 'dull as dishwater.'
Brooke fussed around the house, checking to see if everything was just right.
She grimaced at the old, worn chair that had arrived last week, but she knew that it was going to be a permanent fixture from now on.
After his wife's death, three years ago, Frank had struggled to cope on his own.
Sadly, one cold Winter's day, he fell down the stairs and broke his hip.
The house that Brooke lived in, was more than substantial. So, reluctantly, she agreed to let her father move in.
What used to be her 'crafts room', was now converted into a bedroom. Some of her father's treasures and furniture, had been brought in. The rest was either donated to charities, thrown out or the most valuable items sold.
The profits made from the sale of the family home, boosted up his bank account substantially, but still, he insisted on wearing the same, shabby clothing day in day out.
Brooke peered out of the window, just in time to see the taxi pull up.
Even before he opened the door, she heard his loud protestations and complaints.
Brooke groaned inwardly.
Her father was in a bad mood and she knew he'd be like that all day.
What was she letting herself in for?
Meanwhile, Frank sat complaining about the costly taxi fare.
He was dreading this.
He knew that Brooke didn't want him there at all.
She made that quite clear, the moment she picked up her bags and moved out of the family home, all those years ago.
But circumstances, and a fractured hip, soon put paid to his own freedom.
Still, he couldn't help marvelling at the beautiful countryside, as the taxi zipped past.
He remembered how this was all farmland, as far as the eye could see.
It was a shame that this land had now given itself up for developers.
His own daughter had been one of the first people to snap up the first houses built, and he was prepared to hate it with a passion.
But he was taken by surprise, when he saw the pretty little garden at the front of the property.
It wasn't quite as wild as Frannie's, his late wife's garden, but it was stunning all the same.
At least Brooke had inherited something from them anyway.
If only she'd get her head out of the clouds and see for herself, what her future could be like.
She didn't go to University just to become a waitress.
That business degree was gathering dust, as she plodded on.
And that no good Deano guy.
He had Brooke wrapped around his little finger, and Brooke was so blinded that she couldn't see it at all.
Brooke stepped out of the front door to greet him, her jet black hair long and loose.
For a moment there, he was taken back a few years.
She looked just like her mother, standing there in the bright sunlight.
But he STILL couldn't resist a typical moan and groan.
"Why haven't you fenced this all in?" he complained, crossing his arms, "you know how strays are. They'll come in here, dig it all up, urinate all over and generally ruin everything."
Brooke shook her head.
Nothing had ever changed.
1 comment:
I like it how we got to see both of their POVs. It seemed like Brooke's father was just a mean old man but it was nice to see that he was actually really nervous about going to live with her. Perhaps they will be able to get along after spending a bit of quality time together.
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