Tigers on the Beach

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Authors: Doug MacLeod
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nearly burn my fingers on the industrial toaster. Then the phone rings. I can tell the call is coming from cabin number two, where Grandma is staying. I pick up and do my best hospitality business voice.
    â€˜Reception. How may I help you?’
    â€˜Hello Georgia.’ Grandma is on the line. How can she think I’m Mum?
    â€˜It’s me, Adam.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Of course I’m sure.’
    â€˜I’m thirsty,’ says Grandma. ‘Could you please bring me some juice?’
    â€˜Sure. What juice would you like?’
    â€˜Apricot.’
    â€˜Sorry, Grandma, we have only orange, apple or pineapple,’ I say.
    â€˜No apricot juice?’
    â€˜Only orange, apple or pineapple.’ There is a pause.
    â€˜Do you have mango?’ asks Grandma.
    â€˜No,’ I say. ‘And we don’t have wombat juice.’
    â€˜You really should have mango juice. It’s unprofessional not to.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, but we don’t.’
    â€˜I can see a lady from my window and she’s drinking mango juice.’
    â€˜It’s probably orange juice.’
    â€˜What about blackcurrant?’
    â€˜Only orange, apple or pineapple. Can I bring you some orange juice?’
    â€˜Please. But tell your parents they should have a wider range of juices.’
    â€˜I’ll tell them.’
    The toast is coming off the conveyor belt and piling up. Mum has the radio on, as she does every morning. The presenter tells a joke and I try to listen as I deal with the toast. His jokes are usually good, but not as good as Grandpa’s. This morning it’s one I’ve heard before. ‘A burglar breaks into a house after the owners have left. He’s about to take the computer, when he hears a voice. “Jesus is watching.” He thinks he must be hearing things, and he bundles the computer into his bag. Then he hears the voice again. “Jesus will punish you.” He shivers. Then he sees a parrot in a cage and breathes a sigh of relief. He creeps over to the parrot and says, “Did you say that?” The parrot says, “Yes.” The thief is curious. “What’s your name?” he asks. “Moses,” says the parrot. “What sort of person would call a parrot Moses?” the burglar asks. The parrot replies, “The same person who called that Rottweiler behind you Jesus.” ’
    Grandma rings again to remind me that she is thirsty and asks if I think that she’s a camel. I reply that I’m pretty sure she isn’t.
    â€˜Then please bring me something to drink,’ she says. ‘Even if it’s just orange juice, which will probably make me sick.’
    After the breakfasts are served, a shy couple enters the office. They have been staying with us for three nights. Nathan says they look like tarsiers, wide-eyed monkeys from Borneo.
    â€˜Our two children are concerned about the old lady,’ says the father. ‘They think she might be a witch.’
    I chuckle and Mum shoots me her glare, the one that can kill flies mid-flight.
    â€˜It seems a strange thing for an elderly woman to do. Throwing stones like that,’ says the father.
    â€˜I’m very sorry,’ says Mum. ‘My mother is upset. She lost her husband not long ago.’
    The guests are sympathetic. They offer their condolences and Mum thanks them. But before they leave, the mother asks, ‘It won’t happen again, will it?’
    â€˜You have my word it won’t,’ says Mum. ‘Please enjoy the rest of your stay at The Ponderosa.’
    Marika and I push the trolley laden with buckets and sponges and other cleaning products towards cabin number two. Grandma has taken her carrier bag and gone out for a walk to the store. Marika and I start cleaning the cabin. Working with Marika is like working with someone who lives in another dimension. It’s impossible to get through to her, even though I try. I

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