The Long Way Home

  ****

  The drive home from the station was short. In less than five minutes she had pulled into the driveway of their home, parked the car under the carport beside the house and turned the motor off. Doug opened the passenger side door and got out first. Opening the back door he then reached in and gently undid the seatbelt around his son and picked him up.

  “Hello Simon. How’s my little boy?” he asked affectionately.

  “Dada,” the reply short and sweet as Simon buried his head into his fathers’ shoulder. His little arms locked around his fathers’ neck as Doug locked the car behind him and followed Rowena up the steps of the front porch.

  The house was nothing flash, just a white weatherboard house with a plain concrete and brick front porch, and a carport built onto the side. The block sloped toward the front so that the front porch was above waist height off the ground, while the back of the house was actually at ground level. It was situated in a quiet, dead end street with water views if you looked out over the roof of the house across the street. Out of view over the hill behind them was Gosford town centre. The front yard was simple, bare, green grass except for the new letterbox next to the driveway that Doug had planted a small circle of marigolds around only recently. The front fence although no longer visible in the dark was a simple waist high fence of chain wire nailed to wooden posts, and railings badly in need of repainting. The back yard with its new brick barbeque, hills hoist clothes line and concrete path to the laundry door were the most notable improvements Doug had made during the few years they had lived there.

  Rowena finally finished fumbling with the keys while trying to find the right one for the front door and unlocked it. Doug stepped inside after her and put Simon down on the floor next to his box of toys in the lounge room.

  “Damn it Doug!” Rowena yelled from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ruined. The lamb’s been in the oven too long and it’s overcooked. It’s as dry as cardboard, thanks a lot.”

  “Honey, I’m sure its fine.”

  “Yeah right. What would you know? Are you going to cook dinner now?” She snarled back.

  “Well is there anything I can do to help?”

  “See to Simon, put him to bed or something. I’ll see what I can save out of this mess, even the veggies are burnt around the edges.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be okay, I’m starving.” He lied.

  “It’s because of your train running late again Doug.”

  “No it wasn’t,” he spoke softly as he crouched down to adjust the dial on the oven. “I think you have the temperature up just a bit too high. It’s probably why it dried out too quickly on you.”

  “Oh, so you’re the expert now are you?” She snapped back. “Go see to Simon.”

  Doug turned, picked up Simon and took the boy through to his room. One thing was for sure, with the mood she seemed to be in, tonight wasn’t going to make it any easier to tell her that he’d lost his job.